Ripples
by Ladykestrel
Summary: Grissom and his team reel from a tragedy they could never dream would happen to them…the loss of one of their own. As Gil deals with the new faces, Brass tries to weather the changes with his best friend. Can the team fabric be mended?
1. Chapter 1

"Ripples"

DISCLAIMER: "CSI: CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATION" and other related entities are owned, (TM) and (c) by ANTHONY E. ZUIKER, JERRY BRUCKHEIMER Television, CBS Worldwide Inc., Alliance Atlantis Corporation, CSI Productions and CBS Productions, All Rights Reserved. This is a purely an outlet of creative writing inspired by a superb TV series. The character of Iris King is my own creation.

A/N: Grissom and his team reel from a tragedy they could never dream would happen to them…the loss of one of their own. As new faces arrive to supplement the team, Brass' presence and friendship is a rock for Grissom to anchor to during this time of upheaval and transition. Will the tears in the fabric of Grissom's team be mended?

Rated: T

Acknowledgements: "If Today Was Your Last Day"; written by Chad Kroeger; performed by Nickelback. "Haven't Met You Yet"; written by Michael Buble, Alan Chang, Amy Foster-Giles; performed by Michael Buble. "Iris"; written by John Rzezynik; performed by the Goo Goo Dolls. "Only You Can Love Me This Way"; written by Steve McEwan, John Reid; performed by Keith Urban. "Shut Up and Kiss Me"; written and performed by Mary Chapin Carpenter. "Realize"; written by Colbie Callait, Jason Reeves, Mikal Blue. Ain't No Woman (Like the I've Got)"; written by Dennis Lambert, Brian Potter; performed by The Four Tops. There are several CSI episode influences but I have modified the timeline of "Hog Heaven" to accommodate the story's plot. Quote: "Taken", Law & Order: SVU. Acknowledgements for other quotes are cited in story.

**Chapter One**

_VEGAS_

The diner was a dive, no question, but it was a 24/7 establishment they were all familiar with where over the years they'd gathered repeatedly to share thoughts over breakfast, something they got to do rarely anymore. And here they were again just like in times past but the purpose was different – Warrick had been officially cleared of Gedda's murder. The collective mood was jubilant at his exoneration and of relief that they could now focus their energies on determining who the department mole was.

To Nick, though, it would have been that much sweeter to have Sara with them. The whole team would've been there but the reality of Sara's abrupt departure was still a fresh hole inside.

Their laughter caused the waitress who was covering their table to look their way as she walked by, catching Nick's eye yet again as he flashed a wink at her in tandem with that wide dimpled smile he owned.

Warrick observed this without comment. Nick was using his whole arsenal. The tall Texan was in between ladies so it was logical.

Still, it was getting late and the team was on the brink of exhaustion from the emotional toll this particular case had taken on them all. One by one they made their farewells to Warrick, gestures showing the tight camaraderie the team all felt at heart. They were his family and had stood by him through all of this. Catherine was now preparing to go but leaned in and hugged him with a soft kiss on his cheek. As their eyes met, a silent exchange took place of the "what ifs" between them. It left Warrick with a bittersweet ache in his heart as she walked out.

Finally, it was just him and Nick, his best friend. The waitress walked past Nick again as their silent flirting continued. Nick wasn't going to leave without her number, that was a given, but he wanted to spend time with Warrick too.

"Let's get outta here and find a place to have a brew," he suggested.

"No, man, I'm just heading home, take a shower and veg," Warrick declined with a faint smile. "Besides, bro, that Texas vibe of yours caught our waitress so you better play this one out."

"I've got a great tip for her that's for sure," Nick drawled confidently.

"I bet you do," Warrick now grinned, knowing his buddy would give him the details when they met up at work the next shift.

As Warrick walked out, he turned in the doorway briefly to see Nick striking up a one-on-one conversation with the dark auburn-haired waitress. She flipped over her order pad and wrote out something quickly that she tore off and handed to Nick. While Nick looked at the sheet of paper with a widening smile, Warrick nodded in approval and headed for his Mustang parked in the alley, hearing the loud bass thump of music coming from a club.

He slid into his Mustang and sat several moments as he realized something. Life had given him a clean slate. Sure, Grissom had told him he was facing a likely suspension and demotion, but given what'd he'd gone through with Candy's murder and then Gedda's where he'd been considered a suspect in both, he'd come through the worst of it. Fate had given him a second chance to do everything better from here on out as a series of thoughts ran through his mind:

Eli: I'll be there for you, son. You'll have the dad I never did. I'm going to take you to school. We'll play catch and I'll go to every game you ever play. You'll be one of the smartest kids. I'll see you go to prom, graduate high school and see you off to college. Whatever you set out to do, I'll be your biggest supporter. You're the hope I have for my life.

Catherine: I want to try again and see where this could lead us.

Greg: You're going to succeed as a CSI but don't lose that spark that made you such a goofy lab rat.

Tina: Some things don't work and some things do. I think Eli's the best of what happened between us.

Grissom: You've supported me through the best and worst times while I've worked and grown under your influence. You've been my mentor and my friend. You never hesitated to take me down a notch when I needed it and encouraged me to be more than I was. You're the man I want to be.

Nick: Could I have a better brother than you? You've always had my back and I had yours. Let's see how you work out with the waitress.

A knock on his passenger window sent that path of thought on its way as he saw Undersheriff McKeen. Warrick concealed his surprise and then suspicion well. What was the undersheriff doing there? Was he there to gloat and tell him about being demoted, suspended, or fired? McKeen seemed to have materialized out of thin air. Keeping his face neutral while feeling something wasn't right at the same time, he cautiously lowered the window as McKeen struck up a brief conversation.

The deafening music from the club permeated the alley as one gun shot and then another rang out into the occupied Mustang. The shooter coolly wiped the gun of prints and casually tossed it into the car before strolling briskly away to vanish into the darkness, setting into motion irrevocable changes to the fabric of Grissom's team.

Warrick could feel the blood seeping down his neck. He couldn't move, wanted to scream for help, but there'd be no one there to hear. His vision was blurring with strength ebbing away with the steady flow of blood. Warrick felt so tired, so very tired. Grissom…he had to find the strength to hang on…Grissom would be there. He knew Grissom would come. Consciousness faded as his head slumped forward to rest on the steering wheel.

_DALLAS_

Jeri Church, graveyard supervisor at the Dallas Crime lab, had gotten her verbal kneepads ready before approaching her team. She was ready for the sequential polite refusals she tended to run into when asking anyone to volunteer for swing shift. The swing shift supervisor was a pain in everyone's backside, constantly trying to brown-nose the lab director, looking for any potential opportunity to advance. Like it or not, Jeri had to provide a body for his team due to the early maternity leave of a fellow CSI. Jeri knew she could count on one of her team members in a pinch.

Iris was in the locker area where she'd just gotten in from her outcall – a break-and-enter with possible arson at the original Sonny Bryan's BBQ restaurant on Inwood near the U.T. Southwestern medical district. She had a smoky smell in her hair and clothes but not from the wood used to cook by but that of the structural fire. The building had sustained significant water damage and likely to be closed for some time for repairs. Iris was a BBQ lover and knew it was going to grieve all patrons who satisfied their craving for "Q" at the location. Using a towel, she was wiping away at some ash residue that had stained her clothes.

"Long night, Iris?" asked Jeri.

"Well, you gave me the call for Sonny Bryan's. What a mess. The place will be shut down for a while to clean up after the fire. It looks to be arson according to the DFD investigator, but definite signs of forced entry to gain access inside where the fire originated. I found a crowbar at the restaurant's rear entry and the door had been pried open and the lock broken out. I'll go back to interview the owner later this morning and do the routine questioning. BBQ lovers including us will be in mourning for a while," Iris said with a tired smile.

"No disrespect to them but I'll take one of your cookouts over theirs. You know you're due to give us a spread," Jeri chuckled.

"Sorry, I guess I haven't had my head in cooking here lately," Iris admitted.

"You've been acting…I don't know…worn down is the best way I can put it," Jeri seated herself by Iris. "Is it because of Max writing you another of his letters?"

"There's days I'd rather not have it known about being the FTD killer's only survivor," Iris sighed in exasperation.

"I know it still haunts you about his being your friend and a DPD homicide detective, but you were meant to be the one who stopped him," Jerri reassured her and patted her shoulder.

"I guess that crystallizes how I've been feeling of late," Iris said and there was a distant look in her eyes.

"We all get those urges, dear, but I'd like to ask a favor," Jeri said dismissively with a wave of her hand.

"Sure, one is glad to be service," Iris said blandly. Her response was a trademark one for her, a line from "Bicentennial Man", one of her favorite sci-fi movies.

"Melanie went into labor," Jeri informed her.

"She's not due for a month! Is she okay? Oh my heavens I had a baby blanket to give her!" Iris gasped.

"Melanie and her baby boy are just fine. She delivered a few hours ago at big Baylor," Jeri smiled and it faded slightly, knowing it was still a secret hope of Iris' one day to have her own brood even though she gladly welcomed the blessed events of others.

"Oh me, how wonderful for her and Bud," Iris said with misting eyes. Births were always a happy time to her, in spite of her heart's faint voice of when for her, she would just admit it wasn't meant to be and focus on the joyful event.

"You should be godmother since you set them up on their first date," Jeri nudged her. "Who's going to be your matchmaker?"

"I don't know when that'll happen or if ever. I'm content with my life," Iris insisted.

"Liar, you're always matchmaking others so you're more than due," Jeri laughed.

"What's the favor?" Iris changed the subject.

"Right, uh, could you cover for Melanie on swing while she's on maternity leave?" Jeri asked hopefully.

"One is glad to be service," Iris agreed again.

"Thanks, Iris, I knew you'd come through," Jeri gave her a brief hug and left.

Iris watched her go before she reread the latest letter from Max. She knew she should just send them back unopened and not put herself through his delusional fantasy of they're going to be together one day. His imploring her to forgive him and he'd show her how he could make it all right was never going to end. As she tore up the letter, she sighed aloud, "You'll never know how weary, Jeri."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_VEGAS_

"Officer down. Officer down." The words all in law enforcement fear dominated the police dispatch radio.

Grissom was nearby at a magazine stand and heard the disembodied voice from his vehicle outlining the call. He bolted to the alley and saw the Mustang with its tail lights glowing macabre blood red. Grissom hastened to the car where he saw Warrick, motionless, blood on his neck and chest. He wasted no time opening the car door and easing Warrick to the ground to cradle him. As he saw the two gunshot wounds, Grissom's horror rose in a nauseous wave from the pit of his stomach that took all he had to quell. Instead, he told Warrick to stay with him. Warrick's eyes fluttered open as he looked up at Grissom, trying to will himself to speak.

McKeen was there all of a sudden to tell Grissom he was first on the scene and had tried to pursue the suspect.

Warrick's eyes widened as he saw McKeen before he suddenly choked on more blood. McKeen's hand went to his gun holster, a silent warning as he stood behind Grissom. Warrick wouldn't endanger Grissom even though it meant he couldn't identify his assailant…his killer…the LVPD mole standing just a few feet away.

Grissom cradled Warrick's head as he half-sobbed, "Hang on, stay with me!"

He willed his strength to be Warrick's but Warrick could feel himself slipping away, locking his eyes with Grissom's trying to say what he couldn't.

"Where are the paramedics?" Grissom shouted at McKeen,

As McKeen stepped away to use his 2-way radio, Grissom could only hold Warrick, powerless to change what was happening.

Catherine walked into the alley; no, make that a nightmare of flashing red lights and police activity. Brass was talking to McKeen on her left and Nick was sitting on a curb to her right. Their eyes met briefly as Nick shook his head slowly before his eyes dropped. She then saw Grissom, his shirt bloody, her mind screaming no as she wanted to deny the source of that blood. Her eyes fell on the silent blood-spattered face of Warrick, who would never again flash her his sly dimpled smile, now being covered by the plastic sheeting she had seen at all the homicide crime scenes she'd ever been assigned. Catherine never believed she'd be present at one that involved one of their team. The closest that had been was when it was Brass and by a cruel twist of fate it was Warrick who had accompanied Brass to Desert Palm. She stopped as one hand flew to her mouth and another to her stomach as a ragged sob escaped her. Grissom's eyes locked with hers. No words needed said to express the silent exchange of thoughts and feelings that went between them.

_DALLAS_

The cell phone rang with the ring tone of George Strait's "Dance With You" as Iris turned half awake in bed to reach for it on her night stand. Her surprise was genuine as they hadn't spoke in a while before she opened the phone up. Their running joke had been that Iris said he looked like George Strait and if he'd just wear a white cowboy hat to complete the effect. He had to a DPD crime lab Halloween party once just to placate her and had been swarmed with female company.

"Nickers, what's up?" she tried not to yawn and still sound perky while turning on her lamp. Her adjusting sleep to accommodate coverage of the swing shift was going okay but at times she regretted being a light sleeper.

"Iris…", Nick's voice sounded thick, as if he'd been crying.

She was wide awake in an instant. "What's wrong?"

"Something's…happened…here," Nick's said slowly before Iris heard a series of sniffles. She realized this wasn't going to be good news.

"Tell me," she encouraged him in a quiet voice.

"Warrick…," Nick's voice broke completely as it degenerated into choking sobs.

"Nickers, I'm here, take all the time you need," Iris said softly.

Over the next hour Nick gave Iris all the details he could of the tragic event and what he wanted to do initially to honor his friend. Iris' heart went out to Nick who'd been one of her biggest encouragers when she'd decided to go back to college to embark in a career as a CSI while he'd still been at the DPD crime lab before moving on to join the well-known Gil Grissom's crime lab team in Vegas.

"Nick, I'll fly out today," Iris said, keeping her voice even while she still absorbed the horrible details.

"No, I know you want to charge in here and fix everything, make everyone feel better, that's you. I might fly back to visit when this is all done, but I'd like one favor though," Nick said a faint chuckle.

"Name it," Iris said.

"I want to have a wake for Warrick with the team when it's appropriate. I'll even have Brass there but I need a good song to toast him by. What'd be a good tune?" Nick asked.

"You should have Brass there, Nickers, because from what you've told me he's as much a team member as any of the lab rats," Iris gently scolded, "but here's what I'd recommend in memory of Warrick."

"I'll download it if I don't have it on my IPod already," Nick replied, somewhat astonished. Iris was a huge music fan and he knew she'd give him a solid tune to go by.

"Nick, I'm here for you," Iris said so firmly it made him smile at his end.

"Are you doing okay?" Nick asked, remembering it had been some time also since their last conversation.

"Feeling restive here again," Iris disclosed.

"You get another letter?" Nick said, looking at his watch to note the date.

"Max is like clock work and never misses this time of the month," Iris stated with a flat tone.

"Don't read another letter, Iris, he's bad juju," Nick declared.

"You're right. He gets his satisfaction just by sending it. Things are changing starting now," Iris concurred. "Now, call me, text me, email me, send smoke signals if you need anything."

"You'll be among the first I reach out to…like now," Nick promised. "Talk to you soon."

Iris abandoned the notion she could just go back to sleep and got up to sit in the old weathered rocking chair, wrapping herself in the quilt that rested on its back. Her friend needed more than just a phone call as she cleared her mind and heart, slowly rocking the chair as she focused sending thoughts for healing and encouragement to Nick, his team mates, and others at the crime lab. She even included Detective Brass who she only knew through what Nick said about the homicide detective with rank of captain. Her wish that the perpetrator be found quickly and brought to justice went forward with her other thoughts. It was dawn before the rocking stopped as Iris fell asleep in the old familiar chair.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three **

_VEGAS_

Next to when Nick had been kidnapped, this was the most difficult crime scene Grissom's team had ever had to process. This one had a different slant to it, because they had gotten Nick back from that awful time before. Here it was just as personal because one of their own had been violently taken away who they wouldn't be able to return.

Grissom was back at the crime lab having ridden in the ME's van with Warrick and accompanying the stretcher until David took over the grim task but would do so with a gentle hand. Grissom's clothing had to be submitted into evidence he thought numbly as he encountered an equally stunned Greg in the hallway who glanced at the bloody clothing. He haltingly asked Grissom what he could do and Grissom sent him to get Warrick's clothing; a possibly menial errand in any other case but Greg was grateful for the task.

It was now daylight and from the start the team's work began to yield important clues. As Nick and Catherine processed Warrick's Mustang, Nick was on the driver's side and let Catherine know he'd found a .25 caliber bullet on ground and took an evidence photo. Catherine was on the passenger side and located a .25 caliber pistol on the floorboard with another shell casing. She was taking evidence photos as well, the camera humming with the series of shots she took.

"Warrick's gun's still in evidence," Nick observed with a knit brow, adding that there wasn't a back up service weapon. He further opined that Pritchard did it like a hit and Gedda's influence was there.

"I'd say we have the murder weapon here with two shots and was fired inside," Catherine said as she looked again through the open passenger window to the CD's in the seat and the bloody papers. "The shooter was here and shot inside the car to get Warrick."

"Test for GSR," Nick suggested and Catherine swiped the headliner with the chemical wipe that showed positive.

On further discussion, they tried to reason why Warrick would have his passenger side window down. The driver's window had been shot out by the bullet Nick had found. Their findings would be relayed to Grissom. The car was ready to be taken to the lab to be gone over fully.

When Grissom returned to his office, he was stunned to find Sara there waiting for him. As they embraced, she told him she'd caught the first available flight after hearing the awful news. She asked him to tell her what happened and Grissom told her of watching Warrick fight to stay only to see him slip away. Sara told him that Warrick wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else and Warrick loved Grissom. He quietly disclosed to Sara that he'd also loved Warrick, Sara's dark eyes bright with emotion for what they shared unsaid. As Catherine, Greg and Nick also came into Grissom's office, they each hugged Sara as the team painfully reunited. Nick mentioned that Warrick had wanted to be buried next to his grandmother. Sara said she would help with funeral arrangements because she couldn't officially work the case. She added she'd go to Warrick's apartment and Greg volunteered to go along to see if they could find potential evidence there. Sara was secretly grateful to be allowed a hands-on role with the team. In Warrick's bedroom, she was checking the closet while Greg looked through the top drawer of the chest.

"Hey, Sara, check it out," he said after pulling out a legal envelope bearing the address of a local attorney firm.

To their dismay, they removed legal paperwork for confirmation of paternity that Warrick was engaged in a custody battle with ex-wife Tina for their son, Eli. A DVD was also enclosed entitled it was a court-ordered psychiatric evaluation of Warrick to help bolster his efforts to prove himself a fit parent.

Sara and Greg exchanged an amazed look, and then Sara asked Greg if he knew and that he'd had to say he didn't. She wondered if Nick had. Surely if anyone would have known it would've been Nick.

Later at the crime lab, Nick was focusing his attention on going over every nook and cranny of Warrick's Mustang. He glanced up to see Catherine and Grissom walk up. He informed them that he'd recovered knuckle prints from the passenger side window and that the killer knocked on the window.

Grissom commented he didn't think Warrick would lower his window for Pritchard, knowing he was the suspect for Gedda's murder.

Nick decided it was time to speak his mind as he laid out his thoughts that it was McKeen who was the shooter. The undersheriff was dirty. Nick's series of statements wove a convincing version of what had occurred, showing that Warrick wouldn't have backed down to McKeen, who then shot him in cold blood. Grissom and Catherine found themselves agreeing with Nick's line of thinking.

In the LVPD part of the building, Brass issued orders to fellow detectives and officers as a dragnet was being set to snare Pritchard. He'd pulled everyone off cases in progress so that the department could concentrate its energies on capturing Pritchard. This much he could do for Warrick and personally oversee the killer's being taken into custody. Brass wanted Pritchard alive so bad he could taste it. On a certain level Brass wanted to be alone with him for five minutes in a soundproof room with no video cameras. Yeah, that was worth asking God for, he thought, but just in case the Almighty was listening, he did quietly ask that the slime be apprehended without anyone having to take a bullet. He'd been there done that.

Regrouping back at the alley, Grissom with Nick and Catherine planned out how to recreate the sequence of events McKeen had laid out from his perspective. Their conclusions quickly pigeonholed the undersheriff's claim that the position he said he was standing in revealed he couldn't have heard the shot from the blaring club music coming from the open doorway. The undersheriff had just gone from being the eyewitness to the chief suspect.

Back at the crime lab, Grissom sought out Brass and relayed the team's findings and his assertion that McKeen was the department mole and Warrick's killer. The homicide detective took it in stride, telling Grissom his long-time belief that McKeen was dirty, something he was so familiar with back from his days in Jersey. He cited that when he'd come to Vegas back in the day that McKeen tried to get him in with his other cronies but Brass would have nothing to do with it. He couldn't be bought and McKeen knew it. They needed to find Pritchard to tie everything together to help bring McKeen down but had to proceed with care.

McKeen was self-assured in his confidence that no one suspected him in the least but he viewed Pritchard as a potential loose end. He had Pritchard holed up in a ratty hotel but now was the time to get him out of town. He had to disappear…permanently. Dead men told no tales he reminded himself.

Ecklie carefully measured what Grissom had just told him about the team's findings and his intimations about McKeen. In turn, Grissom was advised by Ecklie of the critical need for incontrovertible evidence. He didn't want to see their investigation jeopardized by proceeding hastily. Their return to the evidence resulted in the break they were seeking when examination of the very small .25 caliber bullets by print analyst Mandy Webster yielded a partial fingerprint that was matched to McKeen's fingerprints on file.

Moving concurrently in their investigation, the CSI team scrutinized McKeen's cell phone calls and traced them to a hotel deduced to be where Pritchard was being kept under wraps by McKeen. The location was pinpointed and Brass with Nick and Greg along with two officers carefully approached the room. After Brass swiped the room's door card, the officers promptly entered the room and gave the "4" sign that it was clear. The evidence including a wet towel and ice in the room told them they'd just missed their quarry.

Brass now called McKeen on his cell phone to establish contact and through a carefully worded conversation telling McKeen that they were after Pritchard and would issue an APB. Grissom was on the phone with Nick where he was back at the lab with Archie who was trying to pinpoint McKeen's location using the cell towers in vicinity of McKeen's phone. Archie determined the direction McKeen's car was headed on a route taking them to Mexico.

Using a police helicopter overhead, Brass and Nick sped on the same highway followed by three squad cars in pursuit of McKeen's car. Grissom suddenly informed Nick that McKeen's signal had stopped moving and they should be right where the signal had ceased.

Brass was ahead of them and saw a hole in the guardrail as his car screeched to a halt. With Nick and the other officers, they found McKeen's car had gone through the guardrail and plunged down a ravine to land on its top in a rollover crash. Pritchard was still in the upside down car strapped in his safety belt and was dead. Nick spied a blood trail leading away from the car and followed it, leaving Brass behind. McKeen was alive at least long enough to get out of their immediate sight, but Nick wanted to be the one who found the corrupt undersheriff.

Two officers following behind him, a worried Brass tried to raise Nick without success on his police radio. Jim requested that the police helicopter verify where McKeen was and the pilot responded visual confirmation of McKeen with Nick holding him at gunpoint. He knew what was driving Nick and he didn't want the CSI to put himself in harm's way in such an emotionally charged state of mind.

Spitting up blood but defiant and unrepentant, McKeen boldly told Nick in a harsh and mocking manner why he'd murdered Warrick. Seeing the mounting fury in Nick's face, the undersheriff taunted the CSI, ridiculing him as a friend, daring him to shoot.

Brass was headed in the direction the pilot had given him when he heard a shot and he pulled up short for an instant before his pace quickened to a run. As he approached the clearing, Nick was poised over the still form of McKeen with his gun.

Fearing the worst, Brass' quick look at McKeen confirmed the undersheriff hadn't given up the ghost. Looking Nick over carefully, Jim asked him what was the shot and Nick calmly replied he'd missed. Brass gave Nick a measuring glance before turning to McKeen to, as surreal as it seemed but still his pleasure, read him his rights.

_DALLAS_

As Iris was dusting a car door of the carjacking case for prints, her cell phone chimed that she had a text message. Grateful to stop for a moment, she opened up the phone to see it was from Nick. It was concise and told her that the team had found Warrick's killer. Iris sucked in a breath of surprise to see it was the undersheriff. The wake would take place at his house that night and the funeral would be the following morning. Grissom would be delivering Warrick's eulogy.

Iris reread the text message. Nick or his team mates wouldn't have peace from this tragic event for some time to come. She again debated flying out to Vegas to surprise him in a few days. Iris had always treated him like a kid brother and in some ways she was closer to him than his own sisters even though Nick came from a close-knit family. They'd just connected as friends and over time the rapport had ripened into a strong familial affection. Either of them would do just about anything for the other.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four **

_VEGAS_

Nick thought everyone had arrived that could make it when there was a sharp knock on his door. He excused himself from the conversation he was having with Grissom to answer the door. Opening it, he found Jim standing there holding a brown bag.

"Glad you could make it, Brass man," Nick said as they briefly shook hands.

"I brought something to ward off the chilly night air," Brass said, handing the bag to Nick.

"It's not chilly, Jim, being May," Nick observed with a faint smile.

"Yeah, whatever," Brass grunted.

"Come on in," Nick opened the door wide.

Brass was warmly greeted by Grissom and the rest of the team. Also present was Doc Robbins, the lab rat crew of Hodges, Wendy, Mandy, Bobby and Henry, and even Ecklie. He observed the absence of Tina, Warrick's ex-wife, who must have her reasons for declining Nick's invitation.

Catherine wrapped him up in a long hug as he felt her moist cheek press to his while he heard her faint sniffles. Poor kid, he thought, she was trying so hard to keep it all in. He knew she'd had certain feelings for Warrick that were never realized. His take was that once Warrick's divorce had been final that Catherine had viewed the future with optimism to see what might occur. Fate was cruel he concluded while he kept a comforting arm around her waist as she welcomed his quiet support.

"The swing shift is taking our calls for tonight and tomorrow," Grissom commented to Catherine and Brass.

"Your night crew's been there for them more than once, it was a favor ready to be returned," Jim said, as Sara came over to join them.

"Jim, good to see you," she hugged him briefly.

"Wish it were under better circumstances," Brass allowed.

"Everyone, thanks for coming tonight to honor Warrick. I'll be the first to say I've never been to a wake and I'm sure I'm not doing this right. I'd like us to have a time to share good stories, funny times we've all had with Warrick, drink to his honor and memory before we meet again tomorrow to tell him goodbye," Nick said to the crowded living room.

"You're doing fine, Nick," Grissom assured him.

"I've got tunes to go that Warrick liked so we'll be hearing everything from jazz to bluesy gospel," Nick said as he put in a new CD in to play. "This song was recommended to me and when I heard it I knew it was right for tonight, even though I'm pretty sure Warrick didn't dig the group I don't think he'd mind."

Everyone found a seat to listen to the song Nick had chosen.

_**"If Today Was Your Last Day"**_

"_My best friend gave me the best advice  
>He said each day's a gift and not a given right<br>Leave no stone unturned, leave your fears behind  
>And try to take the path less traveled by<br>That first step you take is the longest stride  
>If today was your last day<br>And tomorrow was too late  
>Could you say goodbye to yesterday?<br>Would you live each moment like your last?  
>Leave old pictures in the past<br>Donate every dime you have?  
>If today was your last day"<em>

Jim heard Catherine's sharp intake of breath as he glanced her way. She lowered her face but he saw a tear track down each cheek. He grasped her hand supportively and she squeezed back gratefully.

_"Against the grain should be a way of life  
>What's worth the prize is always worth the fight<br>Every second counts 'cause there's no second try  
>So live like you'll never live it twice<br>Don't take the free ride in your own life  
>Reminisce old memories<br>Would you forgive your enemies?  
>Would you find that one you're dreamin' of?<br>Swear up and down to God above  
>That you finally fall in love<br>If today was your last day." _

Sara was also fighting back tears as she listened, Grissom's fingers interlaced with hers. She was struck again by the conversation they'd shared when he'd gone into his office to find her there. Sara knew how grateful Grissom was to have her there to support and comfort him which the others could only do in a limited way. After Sara had encouraged him to tell her, her heart had broken when Grissom had described the trauma of Warrick dying in his arms, the blood soaking his shirt, seeing the light in Warrick's eyes dim and fade as the soul of his friend and protégé slipped away. The shattering truth of it and that he was unable to do more than be sure Warrick knew he wasn't alone.

"_If today was your last day  
>Would you make your mark by mending a broken heart?<br>You know it's never too late to shoot for the stars  
>Regardless of who you are<br>So do whatever it takes  
>'Cause you can't rewind a moment in this life<br>Let nothin' stand in your way  
>Cause the hands of time are never on your side.<br>Would you live each moment like your last?  
>Leave old pictures in the past<br>Donate every dime you have?  
>Would you call old friends you never see?<br>Reminisce old memories  
>Would you forgive your enemies?<br>Would you find that one you're dreamin' of?  
>Swear up and down to God above<br>That you finally fall in love  
>If today was your last day."<em>

Brass felt the words thudding home also, seeing parts of his life throughout the song. He closed his eyes as memories of Ellie, Annie, Ann-Marie, Officer Bell, and even Willie Cutler flooded his mind. The little voice that persisted in saying he was tired of being alone and whispering to try again.

As the song ended, Nick received comments from the group of approval.

"Nick, where'd you find that tune?" Greg was curious. "It makes you think, man."

"A friend recommended it," Nick replied as he placed another CD with miscellaneous music he'd burned to play for the rest of the evening.

"Who?" Greg persisted.

"You know, Iris, who visited me last year," Nick added.

"Iris, the CSI from Dallas?" Jim chimed in on the conversation.

"Yeah, you, Sara and Grissom missed out seeing her since you guys were up at Tahoe on the Coronado Blue homicide since it involved the Vegas and Tahoe police and crime labs," Nick nodded.

"Right, she was really bummed about missing the chance to meet Grissom," Greg recalled.

"My loss too I guess," Jim shrugged.

"If she ever comes back to visit, you'll get introduced," Nick promised.

"Don't have matchmaking on your mind, Stokes, I do okay on my own," Brass shot back.

"Your rep's safe with me," Nick said with an upraised hand.

"Come on, Jim, take a seat," Sara pulled him by the arm to sit by her.

"Boss, you mind steering the ship? I'm gonna go pour us something to raise our glasses with," Nick jerked his thumb toward the kitchen and took Brass' brown bag with him.

Grissom nodded and went by the fireplace. "We'll be toasting our good friend here in a moment. Let's go around the room and each of us can share a thought on Warrick."

Humorous incidents were recalled by each person with resultant chuckles and smiles. Nick stepped out of the kitchen to speak up.

"I'll never forget a conversation Warrick and I had. I said something like just 'cause I've been on a personal losing streak with the ladies doesn't mean you should be, too. Warrick replied he didn't even know if he was going there and the odds haven't gone my way in a long time. I said I was talking about chicks, not gambling. He said same difference. Man, did he ever have it right!" He then brought out a tray of shot glasses filled with what Brass had brought. Nick's story caused nods and smiles around the room. Nick and Warrick had been tight friends and more like brothers in many ways.

It was now Brass' turn and he struggled with what to say, the feeling of guilt washing over him anew. "Look, you all know that Warrick and I had a bumpy association but over the last few years things had smoothed out between us. I was hopeful that things were going to go his way. It's just always going to be with me that the last thing I told Warrick was I hoped he remembered how lucky he was." And he would always keep it to himself that only Warrick had known the fact that Ellie wasn't his daughter. To Warrick's credit, he knew how to keep a confidence.

Catherine slipped a supportive arm around his waist. "He knew how you meant it, Jim, let it go."

Jim gave her a faint smile and it eased his heart somewhat.

"Griss, you're always the man with the word, can you give us what we need to toast Warrick by?" Nick asked quietly.

Grissom's eyes took on a misty appearance as he thought several moments. He had to clear his voice but it still had a thick quality as he began: _"__Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Everything remains as it was. The old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no sorrow in your tone. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without effort. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is unbroken continuity. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before __only better; infinitely happier and forever. __How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting, when we meet again._ To Warrick, our friend, our brother."

The glasses were raised in unison and drained.

"What's that from?" Hodges asked.

"A sermon given by Henry Scott Holland," Grissom acknowledged.

"Classy words, Gil," Brass said.

The rest of the evening passed in companionable exchanges of other recollections they all shared about Warrick.

_DALLAS_

Iris usually had no trouble waking up and getting going, but today her eyes still felt heavy as if she hadn't slept a wink. Her feet felt like lead weights as she got out of bed with a groan. It was getting worse each day going into work, something she generally looked forward to. Her final admission to herself that things weren't normal now and hadn't been for months came with talking to Nick. She'd kept her promise to him though in getting rid of Max's letters by sending them to the psychiatrist caring for Max at North Texas State Hospital with the request that any future letters of Max's to her be routed directly to that clinician as well. It was a dark chapter in her life she wanted closed and Nick's recommendation had spurred her to take the first step, but where this journey might take her she wasn't sure.

Her mind shifted gears from that subject to the other one just as close to her heart. Whenever Warrick's funeral was going to be, she knew Nick and his teammates were going to have a trying time ahead. She'd be sending out those little flapjack prayers frequently. While Iris had gotten to meet most of Nick's coworkers when she'd gone to visit Vegas on that whirlwind weekend, she regretted still not having been able to meet the renowned Gil Grissom who she greatly admired. She hoped they would have a comforting peace that some would have sooner than others.

She took her dogs for a brisk walk before the heat of the day, showered, and headed out to her Ford Excursion to go to work. The diesel engine roared to life and then she backed out of the condo's driveway. While she still worked in Dallas, after David's death she'd opted some years ago to move north about 30 minutes to one of the outlying suburb towns. Staying in the same house she'd shared with David made her realize it had never been a home, so after paying it off she'd donated it to a local women's organization so it could be used to as a shelter for women fleeing domestic abuse. To her the house could then serve others in greater need. The condo's owner was a friend at her church so the rent was reasonable. She didn't want to buy again because she didn't want an attachment to any place. It was where she laid her head down at night for the most part, but it was at least arranged the way she had wanted finally. For those that had ever gone to the house she'd had with David, when one walked in it was how he wanted it furnished and decorated, and any of Iris' touches had been subtle so as not to clash with David's preferences.

After arriving to the main DPD building that housed the crime lab department, Iris parked the big SUV and mentally prepared herself to go in. She was getting along okay with the swing team and its supervisor, but like the graveyard team there wasn't the feeling of cohesiveness Iris wished there was. Everyone was anxious to get their work time over with and then leave. No effort was ever made to get to know one another beyond the ties of work. Her efforts to have the team and their families, spouses or significant others to get together to even simply bowl or go to a movie had been politely but firmly declined. The one thing she could do that the rest of the team was guaranteed to embrace was have one of her spreads that she brought to the crime lab break room.

Stepping out of the Excursion, she looked up at the mid-afternoon Texas sky, no clouds, and a hazy blue for the red ozone air quality day it was warned to be on the radio. The sun was warm on her face as she closed her eyes. Her heart sent out a silent plea for change as the rest of her went inside.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_VEGAS _

The Baptist church was filled to capacity on a beautiful day where sunlight caused the stained glass windows to show their colors with a particular brilliance. The last hymn had been sung by the choir who then were seated as the pastor took the pulpit and read Psalm 23 – The Shepherd's Psalm. In front of the minister was the flag-draped casket by which was a portrait of Warrick.

Brass, wearing the olive green dress uniform of the LVPD, sat with other members of the force in the first of several filled rows of the wooden pews in the left side of the sanctuary. He knew Grissom, his team and other crime lab workers were seated on the right side. His back and shoulders protested at the hard back of the pew but his butt was grateful for the padded seat.

After reading the well-known Psalm, the pastor motioned to Grissom who stood up and approached the pulpit. Brass watched him begin to give Warrick's eulogy, seeing Grissom's face struggle to stay composed, understanding the toll this loss was taking on his best friend.

Grissom voiced the inadequacy of the phrase "we are sorry for your loss" they were trained to say to those who had suffered their loss in the context of how it applied now. However, his description of Warrick in how lived his life each day and the traits that defined him as a person and a CSI it showed how great an impact he'd had in their lives. Grissom's expression as he finished with the words of "I'm going to miss him so much" in a breaking voice spoke for those who were closest to him.

Nick felt the tear sliding down his cheek as his head bent slightly, the tight grip of Catherine's hand in his with her own tears beginning anew. Sara was blinking hard too, her own eyes bright and wet. The lump in Greg's throat couldn't be any bigger. Doc shook his head once more at the hole this had caused in their world. David's gentle face was stricken yet again with the fresh grief they all shared. For Jim Brass, it would be some time before the memory might fade for his sharp reminder to Warrick to remember how lucky he was and some luck it had turned out to be. He still felt he had spoken an unknowing doom over Warrick and wondered if he would ever be able to forgive himself.

Later that day after an equally emotional graveside service with a full police funeral escort and burial with 21-gun salute at the Baptist cemetery, Warrick was laid to rest beside the grandmother who had raised him.

When Grissom was finally in bed at home with the welcome familiarity of Sara lying next to him and the sound of her gentle snore in the darkness, her scent lingering on him after loving him as only she could and healing somewhat the void her sudden departure had caused him. He felt a cold nose on his hand that had dropped over the edge of the bed, Bruno wanting a reassuring pat and the responding tail thumps on the floor as the caress was given. Grissom wanted to sleep but now felt the weight of a new decision looming. Who would replace Warrick? Was that even possible? Ecklie had told him at the funeral to take what time he needed but candidates for the position would be needed soon. Questions to be addressed when they had to as Grissom turned to pull Sara close as she mumbled "Griss" in her sleep.

_DALLAS_

It had been two weeks since Warrick's tragic passing, Nick keeping in frequent contact with Iris by phone, text and email. Iris had sent an arrangement from the Dallas crime lab to the funeral along with a special corsage for Tina which she'd told Nick to give on his own. He'd appreciated her thoughtfulness. He had told Iris he'd never really gotten to know Tina and wanted to do something for Eli. He put the idea of a college fund by Iris who immediately endorsed it. Nick and the rest of the team along with other lab workers or LVPD members had set up a tidy sum that would grow over the ensuing years and further the boy's education after high school. Tina was grateful for the financial assistance and had even invited Nick to come visit Eli a few times. This made Nick hopeful of being able to be a presence in the youngster's life.

"So you heard anymore from Max's doctor?" Nick drawled casually into his cell phone.

"Yeah, I hear Max is PO'd to infinity that I'm refusing his letters but I'll never be able to thank you enough for suggesting something I should've done from the start," Iris replied with a faint laugh.

"What's there to hold you in Dallas?" Nick changed conversational gears.

"Duh, genius, this is where I live, go to church, work and have men lined up from Houston to Dallas," Iris chuckled. "Besides my baby sister lives down here so I've got family local again."

"I'm serious, what's there to hold you in big D?" Nick said again before adding. "Your sister's been married for several years and has her own family now!"

"Where are you going with this, Nickers?" Iris asked, curiosity shading her tone while she used her pet name for him.

"I mean if you could change your situation, move somewhere else to have a fresh start?" Nick pressed.

Iris almost dropped her phone hearing Nick verbalize what she'd kept to herself besides saying to him only that she'd felt tired and restless. It took her several moments to cogently respond to Nick.

"Yes, I would," she said softly.

"I think you should blow the dust off your resume, girl, I'll be in touch," Nick said cryptically and hung up.

Iris stared at her cell phone in near-disbelief before she pocketed it. She looked up at the ceiling for a brief moment. "Grandma Haven, what have you been saying up there? Don't go putting ideas into Nick's head now! I'm grown and can make my own decisions."

While it made her feel better to speak her thoughts out loud, Iris' voice echoed emptily through the house, other than to bring Durante and Cyrano padding into the living room. Each bloodhound flopped onto its side to lay by the leather couch. While she valued the companionship provided by the dogs, this was one of those moments where she actually allowed herself to feel lonely. How nice it would be to come home and be greeted by the special someone that lurked faceless in her dreams or to have him come home to her. Her heavy sigh caused Cyrano to cock an ear at her, making her chuckle in spite of how she disliked this ongoing solitude.

_VEGAS_

A month later and Grissom had still not announced to the team any news for a replacement for Warrick, nor was the team seeking that information with the loss of their friend still fresh in their minds and hearts. He had a stack of online resumes or emails to go through and his heart still wasn't in it. It was too soon but Ecklie was now getting insistent with being able to have the title of undersheriff as ammunition. Grissom hadn't batted an eye when Ecklie'd declared he'd accepted the position. It was a logical move for Ecklie to go up another step in his career ladder. He was on the phone with Ecklie about it when Nick stepped into his office. Hearing how tense Grissom sounded, Nick motioned he'd come back another time but Grissom waved him in to take a seat.

"As I said, Conrad, I'm only going to select the most suitable candidate so I'd appreciate your backing off. I still do my own hiring the last I heard and you've usually never countered my decision for who's on my team," Grissom rolled his eyes at Nick as his conversation with Ecklie continued.

Nick could hear Ecklie's voice get louder and his brows shot up at what he heard Grissom being told.

"I figured you'd bring Sara up but that's water under the bridge, remember?" Grissom said gravely. "You'll be the first to know when I have a list of prospects."

Nick twirled a pencil absently in his fingers as Grissom hung the phone up with a weary grunt before massaging his throbbing temples. "Hoss, are you getting one of your migraines?"

"No, Ecklie isn't worth one, even though he can throw the title of undersheriff about now. He's on me to make a fast decision about…our…vacancy. It's too soon, Nicky, too soon," Grissom replied while reaching for some Advil Migraine to wash down with long swallows from the water bottle as a preventive measure.

"Uh, well, that's kind of why I stopped by," Nick decided to go for it.

"What's on your mind?" Grissom asked with an inquisitive cock of his head.

"You remember my friend Iris in Dallas?" the tall Texan said tentatively.

"Yes, we've had some engaging email conversations when she's had entomological questions for cases she's worked. I found her to be keen-minded and a willing pupil on the subject," Grissom remarked with a faint smile.

"She's looking to transfer to another lab," Nick tried hard not to blurt but out it came.

"You told her we were hiring?" Grissom's gaze was intense but benign at the same time.

"No, I just know she's been ready to make a change of scenery. Dallas isn't good for her anymore, a lot of bad memories there. I just asked her if she had the chance to go elsewhere and she admitted she would. She's not someone to just up and leave a job. Quiet glue's what I've always called her and it sticks, no pun intended, in describing Iris as a solid team player. I wouldn't recommend her if I had any doubts, Griss," Nick said firmly.

Grissom valued Nick's opinion as highly as he did that of the other team members. His fingers folded together as he contemplated what Nick had presented. After several moments of thought, he said, "Tell you what, Nick, if Iris is really committed to this, I'll have a video conference interview with her. I don't have time for her to fly here so this is the best I can offer. I'll make a decision after that."

"Thanks, boss, you won't be disappointed," Nick's wide grin was contagious and Grissom found himself smiling hopefully as well.

A new heartache for Grissom and concurrent with the burden of filling the vacancy on the team had been Sara's sudden departure after the recent case she'd assisted Greg in that had direct ties with a rape case she had worked eight years prior. The rape victim had been left in a comatose state from the savage attack and never regained consciousness. At the facility where she was being cared for, her husband Tom had been found by Greg seated beside his dead wife after the plugs to her life support equipment had been pulled from their sockets. Tom had claimed that his wife's attacker, Tony Thorpe, had sent him an article from the newspaper and a note threatening to violate his wife again. To protect his wife, Tom stated he had removed the life support equipment to spare his wife from any suffering at the hands of her attacker. In discussing the case with Sara in his office, Grissom had examined the case once more and found no evidence tying the rapist to contacting Tom. He'd asked Sara to consider the possibility that Tom's story was untrue, but Sara tried to argue against it. However, Sara had later met the rapist in person and found him confined to a wheelchair, thus confirming Grissom's assessment and later when she had visited Tom in jail where he had admitted to his own intense personal suffering from his wife's condition and belief she would never recover. The discussion Grissom had with her about evaluating the relationship between Tom and his comatose wife had mirrored facets of their own relationship. He had returned home later to find she had packed and left, this time there was no note. Grissom was feeling a growing weariness these days since Sara had departed.

_DALLAS_

Nick's email still had Iris reeling as she read it again on her phone while the swing team supervisor was dispensing assignments. **The** Gil Grissom was going to have a video conference tomorrow morning her, even though she was a brand-new level 2 CSI. Nick had told her Grissom rarely offered level 1 CSI's a spot on his team. Iris found herself hoping she'd be passed over for once, but heard her name and that her case was a 419 found near the Deep Ellum club district. Another speed bump a voice said and laughter erupted in the room. Iris viewed it as a tasteless comment and kept silent. She reached forward as the index card with the case details was slid down the table to her.

Later by the _Club Dada_, where the police still had part of Elm Street shut down, it didn't take long for Iris to process the scene and gather the sad details. Iris reviewed her scribbled notes. According to the homicide detective, the male victim was homeless but known to frequent the club district to panhandle or dumpster drive. No ID was found on and the smell of alcohol was heavy on the body after the ME released it for transport back to the morgue. The Hispanic club manager waited for her inside the club where a band was practicing to play later that night.

"Mr. Salazar, I'm Iris King from the Dallas crime lab. Please tell me what you can about what occurred," she said and took a seat on the bar stool the manager offered.

"You can call me Mateo. Like I told the detective, the poor guy's been hanging around Deep Ellum for the last six months or so. I'd let him do little odd jobs here…take out the trash, sweep and mop, and pay him a few bucks. I even let him stay in a little back room so he'd have a safe place to crash when he wanted. Let the dude have some dignity, you know?" Mateo said in disbelief.

"Mateo, we didn't find any identification on the victim. Did you know his full name, where he was from, anything that could help us reach his next of kin? Also did he have a drinking problem?" Iris gently asked.

"His name was Wayne Coleman but wouldn't say much about himself and liked it that way. The dude got skittish if you asked questions. I learned that early on. I think he was in fifties. He was comfortable doing a little job, have some dinero to pocket, but yeah he'd get drunk on the weekend. He'd been drinking in the alley behind the club like he usually did on Friday and Saturday. I'd just paid him to take the trash out and he'd left. I heard screeching tires and a woman scream. I come out right away to see a bronze Lincoln Navigator speeding off. The dude never had a chance and that damn driver never stopped," Mateo's anger was genuine.

"What woman screamed? We didn't have a female witness according to our homicide detective," Iris frowned at her notepad.

"I forgot to mention it to him I guess but that's the thing. I run out to the street and I don't see anyone. No other traffic and no woman, just Wayne lying there bloody and still. I heard her scream, I know I did," Mateo insisted.

"We'll do our best to find out who did this, Mateo. Here's my card if you need to contact me," Iris declared.

Back at the crime lab, Iris went through the meager belongings of the victim. A trash bag contained a few changes of clothes and toiletry items. A person's life lay before her yet told her little. There had been no wallet so no connection with friends, family, or a past love. In spite of his circumstances, the man's appearance was neat and clean. The medical examiner was going to do the autopsy later and Iris would be present. She had the impression this case wouldn't take long to complete for her role in it, but how long it might take to find the SUV driver was the biggest question. If next of kin couldn't be found, an unmarked grave eventually awaited this victim. Iris shook her head not wanting that to be the conclusion but it often was with the homeless in Dallas. What happened to drive this person to want to live this way? Iris might never know but would do what she could to find the person responsible for Wayne's death. The victim's shirt was shredded from contact with the SUV's grill she noted and began the catalogue the items to box up as evidence.

"Well, if it isn't King Solomon!" a deep voice exclaimed from the doorway. "This is your lucky day!"

Iris looked up to see homicide detective Jake Pruitt, all burly six feet of him, chewing on a toothpick, which was a persistent habit of his. She had an expression between a half smile and half grimace. His calling her the nick name the police department knew her by from when she'd been married had been a long-running department staple of amusement had pretty much ceased after David's murder yet she still heard it on rare occasions. Jake had been Max's partner and while she still considered him a friend it had been strained by all that had happened after Max's arrest as the FTD Lady Killer and his subsequent institutionalization.

"Good to see you, Jake, so how's this my lucky day? I've got a case already," Iris replied amiably and pointed to the personal effects of the victim.

"This is going to be the shortest case you ever worked as a CSI," Jake told her as he glanced casually over the life of Wayne Coleman. "Dispatch called in a traffic stop where a bronze Lincoln Navigator with a busted up windshield and hood was stalled out at the Dallas North Tollway and Mockingbird. The teenaged driver was headed home to Highland Park to mommy and daddy's mansion."

Jake's sarcastic tone didn't surprise Iris. He'd tried in that past to transfer to Highland Park's PD without success. Being Max's partner how somehow tainted him he figured and his bitterness was understandable.

"Is the Navigator being taken to the Dallas impound?" Iris asked, gauging how long it might take to get the vehicle to the crime lab to go over.

"Nope, it's being brought here for you to go over, the grapevine told me you had this case," Jake shrugged.

"Thanks, Jake, appreciate the help and tell that wife of yours Wanda I said hey," Iris said and patted his arm.

"You know Wanda has a guy at work she'd like you to meet. He's a doctor," Jake mentioned with a coaxing tone.

"I'm not in the market right now," Iris told him.

"You haven't been in, hell, I don't know, years it seems. Don't let what happened with Max sour you on us guys!" Jake exclaimed.

"It's not that and you know it, Jake. It's just I haven't met the right one yet," Iris replied.

"Think about it, huh? You deserve having someone," Jake insisted.

"I will think about it, I promise, but I need to go check out the Navigator," Iris insisted. "I have to catalogue the personal effects and get them to evidence."

"I'm going to hold you to that," Jake wagged a finger at her before he left.

"The right one's out there, Jake, just not here in Dallas," Iris whispered to herself.

Jake's sending of the Navigator over to the crime lab proved fortuitous for Iris' ongoing investigation. Strips of fabric found embedded in the windshield and grill were a match to Wayne's shirt. Blood, hair and tissue fragments were swabbed and submitted, proving to also match the victim. Iris had joined the homicide detective jointly working the case with her to interview the SUV driver who it turned out was only fifteen. The girl lived in Highland Park, where she was trying to get home to after the accident. Her parents out of the country on a Mediterranean cruise and she'd wanted to impress two girlfriends when she'd told the housekeeper she was going shopping at Northpark Mall with friends. The housekeeper had assumed the girl was going with other friends who drove. After picking up her two friends, they had impulsively dared her to go through the Deep Ellum District on their joy ride. The girl had been speeding on Elm Street when Wayne had started crossing the street. She hadn't been able to stop, and after hitting him, she had screamed hysterically before panic set in and she sped from the accident scene. Her piercing scream had obviously been heard by Mateo and thus supported his story.

The girl's parents were now flying back from Greece and the minor had been released to the custody of an aunt. Iris shook her head as she finished up the case file, the shortest one she'd ever worked. The girl's legal woes were just beginning. However, she was glad to see justice for Wayne Coleman who she had been able to track down a brother and sister of. Wayne would be buried next to his parents back in Cleveland, Ohio, where he was from originally when the body was released by the medical examiner. Her promise to Mateo had been kept indirectly. While she felt Wayne Coleman could be at peace her own restlessness gave her none of her own.

As she climbed into bed, Iris had figured she wouldn't be able sleep because of the anticipation of tomorrow morning but it claimed her quickly in spite of her concerns.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

_VEGAS_

Grissom had never conducted an interview via the Web but there was a first time for everything. Nick had shown him pictures from when Iris had visited so Grissom already had a preview of Iris' appearance. After the conference software had synced between them, she found bespectacled blue eyes with a benign facial countenance looking her over that she returned similarly behind her own wire-rimmed glasses.

"Dr. Grissom, I presume, a genuine pleasure to make your acquaintance," Iris broke the momentary silence between them. Her voice had a much younger sound to it than he had expected. Her phrase amused him as he was sure she was utilizing the famous quote similarly of "Dr. Livingstone, I presume." Years of living in Texas hadn't caused her to adopt something of a southern accent with her neutral Midwestern one still holding true.

"Iris, the pleasure is mutual," Grissom smiled slightly. "I'm afraid time is a harsh task master and I don't have much to spare this morning."

"Dr. Grissom, I understand and appreciate this opportunity that I wish was taking place under better circumstances," Iris said with heartfelt sincerity.

"Please, no formalities are needed here, Iris. Nick wouldn't endorse just anyone and I didn't need convincing to do this interview. I trust his judgment of character and there aren't many people he holds in much higher regard," Grissom told her as he briefly glanced over her emailed resume.

"Is he doing okay? We haven't spoken in a few days," Iris asked and her concern was clear.

"He's dealing with this in his way, as we all are, but I think once McKeen's trial is over and he's in prison it will start to assuage the pain," Grissom replied.

"Closure is a term I don't think is ever adequate," Iris commented and Grissom saw a distant look in her eyes.

"I agree. When Nick and Sara were kidnapped, when Brass was shot, when Warrick was murdered, those have been life-changing events for me," he concurred and added further. "You have your own, don't you?"

Her eyes dropped for a moment before meeting his gaze squarely again. "You have those who come into your life who you think you know and like the Roman deity Janus have two opposite faces. It haunts me still that if I could've somehow figured Max out and stopped him before another woman died at his hand."

"Max Schneider was able to conceal what he did but for only so long. Even though the pathology of his childhood sexual abuse was contributory, evil has a way of being found out, perhaps not right away, but the truth and evidence will bring it to light," Grissom said firmly. "If you hadn't been resourceful in the unique way you stopped him, then his evil might have continued. I understand it haunts you and drives you to be an even better criminalist. These are qualities I need for the next person on our team."

Iris' eyes grew huge as the import of Grissom's words hit home and that what he said echoed Jeri's to an extent. Her stunned expression caused him to give her a slight grin. "When can you start?"

"Could I have give Jeri a two-week notice? I don't want to leave her in too bad of a lurch?" Iris finally stammered with a shaky laugh.

"Yes, I can agree to that caveat and I admire your wish to leave your current post properly," Grissom observed as he added. "Welcome to the team, Iris, you'll do well I know."

_DALLAS _

In her office, after Iris broke the news she was transferring, Jeri Church shook her head in disbelief as she looked over Iris' formal written HR request for a transfer to Las Vegas to work for the same renowned CSI supervisor the DPD crime lab had lost Nick to. It gave her an ironic sense of déjà vu. "I can't talk you out of this? Offer you a long vacation or leave of absence?"

"No, Jeri, it goes way beyond that to change my mind. I want to start fresh and new there. You know, go west young lady," Iris was emphatic.

"But the economy there is in the toilet, let alone real estate, besides Nick you don't know anyone there. The Dallas area is by far the better choice of where to live!" Jeri protested stubbornly.

"I'll be fine, Jeri. I've got a decent nest egg to add the liquidation of my remaining vacation time to. Finding a good deal on a place there is a no-brainer. The climate's similar to Dallas so adjusting to the heat is no biggie. It's just a matter of moving my dogs and horse with my house stuff as the logistical challenges," Iris replied in a matter-of-fact way to soothe her worried soon-to-be-ex boss.

"That should be some nest egg given the fact you hardly ever took time off. You know Jake Pruitt thinks you should have your head examined and mentioned you're missing out on meeting a doctor Wanda knows for crying out loud," Jeri lamented. "If you had a man here you'd stay, right?"

"It takes more than a man, Jeri, it takes **the** man. Don't give me that cross-eyed look either. My reasons to go there don't add up to finding whoever that might be but if he were then that's the cherry on top I guess. I'm realistic about it just the same," Iris shrugged.

"You just seem to be hasty about all this, Iris. I don't begrudge your chance to go work with Gil Grissom but for pity's sake you seem to be rushing out of here. I wish you'd think this over," Jeri tried one last time to dissuade her.

"It's not hasty, Jeri, I've wanted to go for some time, I just didn't know where until now," Iris disclosed, her hands clasping Jeri's. "You've encouraged me and my skill set has grown in the time I've been under your direction, but my mind is made up."

"Okay but you tell Gil he owes me large now that two of our brightest CSI's have gone his way," Jeri said with sigh of capitulation. "We're going to throw you one helluva going away party."

"I know you wouldn't have it any other way but I'll be back to visit. I've still got family and friends here," Iris promised as Jeri wrapped her in a big hug.

Iris had already had to field a sea of questions and frank disbelief from her sister and brother-in-law there in Dallas as well as the rest of the clan back in Indianapolis. They all collectively felt that she was making an impulsive decision and, if anything, she should move back to Indy. As a leverage move, they'd all threatened to tell their father, a retired dentist living in New York City, of her plans. Iris was unmoved at their attempts to persuade her to change her mind while there was still time.

_VEGAS_

Nick had gotten a text from Grissom to come early before shift to his office. He knew that Iris had been interviewed although she hadn't contacted him about the outcome. Grissom's nose was buried in an entomology reference book as Nick cleared his throat.

"You wanted to see me, Griss?"

"Yes, I thought you'd like to know that Iris is coming on board in two weeks," Grissom casually informed him while he closed the book.

"You'll find she's totally solid, she'll be a real asset, she'll…," Nick rambled happily.

"I get it, Nick. Your recommendation was enough. I'd of taken her just on that," Grissom interrupted with an upraised hand.

"So you said two weeks, right?" Nick asked to clarify. He wanted to make his house ready in case Iris needed a temporary place to stay.

"She insisted on two weeks so she can get Jeri time to make what adjustments she can. I appreciated hearing that from her. It's sort of rare these days," Grissom remarked.

"Wait till you get the chance to eat one of her spreads, Dallas' loss is Vegas' gain," Nick chuckled.

"Something to look forward to," Grissom said yet there was an absent quality in his voice.

Nick deduced that it was as close as Grissom could get to saying how much he missed Sara.

"Iris'll help to bring good vibes back to us," Nick said firmly.

"We've been in need of that these last weeks," Grissom allowed with a slight head nod.

"Is Ecklie cool about your hiring her?" Nick had to ask.

"He's aware of my choice. The only thing he had to say was he felt it was better to go with someone who was available now. I responded I understood his take on this subject but this was how I wanted it," Grissom shrugged.

"You diplomatically said to shove it," Nick grinned.

"Yes, more or less," Grissom concurred with his own wry smile.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The following Monday Ecklie had never seen Grissom as furious as he was now in his office.

"What's the meaning of this? I've filled the position," Grissom's fist slammed the top of Ecklie's desk where he'd just tossed Ecklie's email print out from ten minutes earlier.

"You said that Ms. King couldn't start for two weeks. We need an experienced CSI on your team now. Riley Adams comes highly recommended and is a level 2 CSI. She's a former police officer which adds to her skill set. I went over you and offered her the same position. She starts on your team tonight and is in orientation right now," Ecklie shrugged.

"I gave Iris my word she has a job to come to. She's already in the process of moving here. You had no right to go around me," Grissom countered angrily.

"Uh, Gil, I **had **no right. I'm now the undersheriff and still your boss, remember? It's my judgment call to make and I think you need the help now not later. Ms. King was on swing shift in Dallas, right? Let her start as a part-timer on swing shift, Rich Bailey's still got that position open," Ecklie replied with a dismissive wave.

His teeth grinding together, Grissom was doing his level best not to consider putting ground up meal worms in Ecklie's personal coffee mix kept in a canister on the back bar in his office so that Conrad's next cup would be memorable for its occult ingredient. "I gave her a full time job not a part-time one! She needs to be able to make a living."

"I'll let you handle telling her she has a part-time position to come to. Tell her it was due to budget. She can always change her mind and stay in Dallas. End of discussion…you deal with it," Conrad said and leaned comfortably back in his chair.

"You've left me in a predicament not of my making. You're like Teflon, Conrad, nothing sticks but I'll be happy to tell you what it smells like while it hits the fan," Grissom replied tersely but had the last word before he strode out.

Nick's eyebrows rose in alarm as Grissom explained what had just happened in Ecklie's office. "Can that a-hole get away with that? I mean you've already told the team about Iris coming on board. I saw a fresh face in the vending machine area with a CSI ID badge, pretty cute, so I wonder if that's the new hire."

"Probably. Her name's Riley Adams and she'll start tonight with us. Look, Undersheriff Ecklie thinks more of himself than ever these days, but what to do about Iris. My word is my bond," Grissom pondered over folded hands.

"I can call her," Nick offered.

"No, that's my cross to bear," Grissom said glumly. "No time is a good time either with this kind of news but at least Rich'll be thrilled to get his spot filled."

"Iris will take this in stride, boss, you'll see," Nick gave Grissom a consoling arm punch before he left.

"Yeah, Nicky, I hope you're right," Grissom sighed and began scanning his cell phone contacts for Iris' mobile number.

Iris' day was going great as she drove west on US Highway 93 and had just crossed the Nevada state line. Her Excursion was towing the 2-horse trailer without complaint, Cyrano and Durante each had a head poked out a window with long ears flapping in the breeze. Kyrie was in air conditioned comfort in the trailer. Her furniture had already been shipped ahead by the moving company. Her excitement had grown with each mile as she traveled into what was for her something of an unknown. Her cell phone rang to the ring tone of "Bugs" by Pearl Jam and Iris smiled to be able to speak to her new boss.

"Hello, Doctor Grissom, you're ears must've been burning," Iris laughed while putting the phone into its hands-free cradle.

"Remember, Iris, its Grissom or Griss," she heard the masculine chuckle.

"Well, Griss, I just passed into Nevada and I should be in Vegas in no time," Iris clarified how she addressed him.

"Iris, there's been a change in events here," Grissom said and she could hear the discomfort in his voice.

"Wait a tick," Iris bumped up the phone's volume and pressed her power window controls so she could hear Grissom in full. She also rapped out be still commands to quiet Cyrano's and Durante's whines of protest at the raising windows. "That's better. Okay, Griss, what happened?"

"Before I go on what did you just say? It didn't sound like English?" Grissom's curiosity was piqued.

"Oh, Navajo," Iris replied matter-of-factly.

Grissom found his curiosity not sated but only intensified before he went on to tell her the details of Ecklie's circumvention and hire of Riley Adams to his team. "So this leaves me with an unpleasant dilemma, Iris, because I gave you my word you have a job waiting for you. If it's your wish to return to Dallas, I'll understand your decision and no hard feelings. I truly dislike being between a rock and a hard place."

"Well, Griss, it's like this. I've got no wish to return to Dallas. I do have a job to come to even though it's a different shift, so perhaps when you're short-handed you can consider requesting me to help out. I've got my eye on a house and a realtor ready to show me the place. It'll all be good so no worries," Iris stated in a no nonsense way.

Grissom sat back in his chair marveling at her optimism and that she wasn't PO'd about the situation but rather making the best of it. "Iris, I think I understand now why Nicky calls you quiet glue. Call me when you get situated and ready to come in for orientation."

"You got it and if you don't mind I'll still call you boss somehow even though I'm officially under Rich Bailey's command because it was you that hired me," Iris said before they hung up with each other.

Grissom found himself smiling at the phone for several moments that his continued impression of Iris was indeed going to prove to his instincts right in hiring her.

Iris made the most of the next few days before her day of orientation came. In spite of Nick's protests, she had opted to stay at a Hilton Homewood Suites not far from the house she had just purchased. The date to close would be in the next two weeks. Iris was paying for the house in cash, her savings account taking a major hit, but the price was a bargain for what the house would have usually sold for there let alone back in the Dallas area. The economic downturn was particularly acute in this part of the country but she still felt the home to be a good investment opportunity though needing some minor cosmetic repairs. Nick had helped her get Kyrie settled at the stable where other members of the Sheriff's Mounted Posse that he was a member of kept their horses. Iris' membership application of transfer was being processed but it had been approved for Kyrie to be boarded there. Cyrano and Durante would stay with Nick until Iris got the house ready to move into. As promised, she had called Grissom about her progress and he'd told her what day to be at the crime lab and where to report for orientation.

Before heading to the LVMPD, she was driving on another trip of exploration to familiarize herself with the vicinity between her home to be and work. The sign caught her eye and she let go a soft whistle as she made a sharp turn into the parking lot. The Life Victorious Church was a modest-sized main building connecting to three other smaller buildings. There was only a minivan to indicate someone might be there. Iris parked the Excursion and went to the front door of the large building. She pulled on the glass door's handle and found it to be open as she entered the foyer. The doors leading to other hallways she found to be locked but two sets of large doors were open and the sounds of a hammer. Walking through she found herself entering the sanctuary and saw a woman with a nail in her mouth as she busily hammered at the pulpit. The woman had her back to her and couldn't have heard her come in. Iris didn't want to startle her.

"Excuse me, your doors were open," Iris finally announced herself when the woman's hammering had ceased.

The woman turned to face Iris while she pulled the nail out of her mouth. She was dark haired with something of an olive complexion. Her mouth quirked at Iris before she laughed in reply, "I'd of had more doors open but being alone here isn't smart even with it being a church. I didn't hear the door alarm go off with the racket I was making. I'm the pastor here. Mel's the name."

"Nice to meet you, Mel, I'm Iris and just moved here from Texas," Iris shook hands with the lady pastor.

"Welcome to Vegas, Iris, although more people are leaving than moving here right now," Mel lamented with a sigh.

"I'm planning to stay here in spite of the economy. I happen to be looking for a church to check out. Your church's name was similar to the one I used to go. I was active in different areas there. Can you tell me about yours?" Iris asked while glancing up at the stained glass windows.

"Oh, this used to be a Methodist church but we're a nondenominational congregation. I hope to have a full choir someday," Mel indicated with a wave toward where there was a drum set, guitars, bass and three keyboards.

Iris left with the promise that she would attend a future service there and liked the homey feeling about the church and its young pastor. She felt this was a place she could volunteer in several areas.

Still a ways from the buildings that housed the LVMPD and the crime lab, Iris was in a mood to hear music and put a USB stick of tunes into her car stereo to play. She'd already gone through resetting the radio to the Vegas stations. She hit shuffle and saw the display of the song title to play. For a moment she debated hearing it and thought what the heck let it go as Michael Buble sang "Haven't Met You Yet."

Iris was laughing at the irony of this song and the questions it raised. She hadn't met whoever it could be yet and today was the first day of her new job. What if she met him and didn't know it? What if he worked there? What if he was the first man she saw there? Ah, she mused, those what ifs could be endless so she just gave in and sang a happy duet with Michael.

"_I'm not surprised, not everything lasts/I've broken my heart so many times, I stopped keeping track/Talk myself in, I talk myself out/I get all worked up, then I let myself down/I tried so very hard not to lose it/I came up with a million excuses I thought, I thought of every possibility/And I know someday that it'll all turn out  
>You'll make me work, so we can work to work it outAnd I promise you, kid, that I give so much more than I get/I just haven't met you yet/I might have to wait, I'll never give up/I guess it's half timing, and the other half's luck/Wherever you are, whenever it's right/You'll come out of nowhere and into my life/And I know that we can be so amazing/And, baby, your love is gonna change me/And now I can see every possibility/And somehow I know that it'll all turn out/You'll make me work, so we can work to work it out/And I promise you, kid, I give so much more than I get/I just haven't met you yet/They say all's fair in love and war/But I won't need to fight it/We'll get it right and we'll be united. "_

Pulling into the parking lot now of the LVPMD, she parked the Excursion and delicately maneuvered it between a Lexus SUV and a pimped out hoopty Impala that the owner had taken great pains to trick up. With care, she opened her driver's door so it wouldn't make contact with the Impala's elaborate paint job. "Let me breathe in confidence and breathe out confusion," she said to herself before striding into the building and to what the future held in store.

Jim Brass' mood was going further south by the minute. He'd been questioning a male suspect going through methamphetamine withdrawal. The outstanding citizen, he thought sarcastically, had attempted to flee a burning motel room serving as a meth lab which had exploded and wherein his partner in crime had been barbequed but also had been shot. To top it off, the fool had made a new drive-thru in the rundown motel's lobby with his Jeep. The jittery man had thrown up on Brass just when the questioning was getting productive, the detective's suit jacket taking the brunt of the malodorous liquid assault. To add to his morning he was starting to have sniffles and coughing, and he stubbornly dismissed it as a cold in spite of the flu that was making the rounds throughout the LVPD. He would remain unaffected he vowed, not like how sick he'd gotten a few years back.

Muttering under his breath, Jim had done his best to clean up in the men's room where Gil was doing what he called office paper work. Brass was still using soapy paper towels to blot his jacket when Gil joined him at the sinks.

"What happened to you?" Grissom asked, his nose catching the smell Brass still couldn't get out.

"Got puked on by that slime in the meth lab explosion with the crispy critter partner," Jim replied as he continued to scrub the jacket.

"Better use cold water, Jim, it's more effective until you can get your jacket cleaned," Grissom recommended. "I gotta go…new CSI starting today."

"You got Riley already so who's the new meat?" Brass stopped his laundering efforts.

"Iris starts on swing but Rich's out sick today, so I'm showing her around," Grissom replied.

"Yeah…introduce me some time…don't even know what she looks like," Brass grunted before resuming his scrubbing.

"Sure," Grissom said before leaving.

"Dammit, this jacket'll never be right again," Brass finally admitted and put the sodden clothing in a trash bag one of the janitors had given him. "This day's going from bad to worse."

The orientation class was over with and Iris had been met by Grissom at the elevators that lead to the crime lab. He showed her the locker area and where her locker had been assigned, where she stowed her purse and committed the lock combination to memory.

"After I show you around to refresh your memory of the layout and introduce you to lab personnel, I'm giving you a series of case files to look over so you can familiarize yourself with how ours are organized. There's going to be variety to give you a taste of Vegas," Grissom said as they went through the halls.

"Buffet's the best," Iris agreed.

Going throughout the lab, Grissom reintroduced her to the lab rats: Hodges; Wendy; Mandy; Archie; Henry. Their trip ended in the break room where Grissom pointed to a stack of case files. "When you're done, just return them to the records department. Bon appétit!"

Iris wasted no time and dug in, making copious notes as she went through the each case. Her diligence caused her to lose track of time and her cell phone chirped to indicate a text message. She saw it was Nick.

"_What U up 2?" (N)_

"_Going thru cases boss left me." (I)_

"_When done text me. Let's get lunch!" (N)_

"_K" (I)_

Her last case was done several minutes later and she made sure the stack of files was in the exact order Grissom had left it in. She loaded herself up and headed down the hallway.

Brass was headed back to his office after taking his jacket to the cleaners he used near work. He'd just pulled his keys out and was rounding the corner, never seeing the other who was also making the same turn concurrently. Case folders went flying as Jim collided with the mystery person, struggling to keep his own balance, but the ensuing tangle of arms and legs made that impossible as they both fell.

Iris felt the wind knocked out of her as a heavier body landed on her, pinning her hips and splaying her legs apart. Brass also was breathless for the same reason as they lay there several moments. A swift mutual appraisal took place.

Brass: Subject in custody is a Caucasian female, age mid to late forties, short brown hair, wire-rimmed glasses, lotta freckles, brown eyes with amber highlights, kind of upturned nose, faint laugh lines about mouth, feels bosomy and soft to land on, smells nice, height pending. Uh oh, we're in the horizontal bop position but she fits pretty good here!

Iris: Older Caucasian male with look and physique somewhere between a bear and a bulldog; Marine cut short brown hair, fast-receding hairline; keenly observant piercing blue eyes but careworn to match jowls and below chin wattle; facial lines that seem to have seen its share of sad times. Iris, woman, mental regroup! Good Lord, he's got you in the missionary position and you don't seem to mind. He has a good face, an honest face, a face you like right away. Oy vey, what a way to meet!

A crowd was gathering about them including Nick and Greg.

"Iris, that's a helluva way to meet the Brass man," Nick crowed, unknowingly echoing Iris' very thoughts, while he moved to help Brass up while Greg did the same for Iris.

"So you're Detective Jim Brass," Iris said while scrambling to her feet.

"The one and only but, uh, women usually like it on top with me," Jim wisecracked. "Unique method of introduction I'll say."

"Well, in that case, the next time I'll be sure to have my whip and spurs with me," Iris replied tartly.

"Yeah and don't forget the whipped cream! She's quick with the comeback and sorta spunky," Brass said with an approving grin before a sudden dry cough occurred. Iris observed he brought out a monogrammed handkerchief to blow his nose into.

Grissom and Catherine now joined the crowd after hearing the commotion from their offices. Riley Adams had gone home early after finishing a breaking-and-enter case.

Greg now spontaneously dropped to one knee to seize one of Iris' hands as he serenaded her: "_And I'd give up forever to touch you/Cause I know that you feel me somehow/You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be/And I don't want to go home right now/And all I can taste is this moment/And all I can breathe is your life/Cause sooner or later it's over/I just don't want to miss you tonight/And I don't want the world to see me/Cause I don't think that they'd understand/When everything's made to be broken/I just want you to know who I am/And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming/Or the moment of truth in your lies/When everything seems like the movies/Yeah you bleed just to know your alive/I just want you to know who I am."_

"Name that tune," Nick challenged.

"It's "_Iris"_ by the Goo Goo Dolls," she replied automatically. "Greg, you promised me when I was here last time you wouldn't do that!"

Applause rewarded Greg's antics which no one minded because once in a while he would revert back to the Greg of old who'd been the lab's class clown.

A new commotion was heard down the other end of the hall by Ecklie's office as a loud male voice yelled, "The mayor promised you'd provide me a crime investigation and I don't want some damn state veterinarian overseeing it. I want your best people on it now! Do I have to call my friend, your state's governor back?"

A tall man who could've been Colonel Sanders' twin in an expensive Armani suite with bolo tie came striding out of Ecklie's office with a cane, followed by the undersheriff himself who was trying to do damage control and another man more casually dressed in jeans and a pullover shirt.

"Who the hell ordered chicken?" Brass pointed at the creamy white attired figure with a sarcastic snort while they all looked on.

"Where's this so-called crime team you were boasting about, Ecklie? Who here knows anything about horses?" the man bellowed as he spied the CSI team with a baleful glare.

"This is Gil Grissom, one of our CSI team supervisors, nationally known…"Ecklie started to say and gestured toward Grissom with a silent plea for help.

"This bunch wouldn't know horse apples about the poll to the pastern, let alone the breeds, the greatest being Thoroughbreds!" the man interrupted Ecklie with a dismissive sneer aimed at Grissom that boasted a silent challenge as well.

Iris felt her cheeks burn with an angry flush as she stepped defensively in front of Grissom and Brass. Brass tried to stop her not knowing who this clown was but Grissom stayed his hand. There was a gleam in his eye that Brass saw and he stayed neutral…for the moment. She strode directly up to the other man who seemed to tower over her in their height difference.

She wasn't intimidated in the least as she responded to his challenge. "Retired Army Colonel Gavin Quinn is well-known in horse racing circles for the winners his Gates to Eden Thoroughbred Farm in Kentucky has produced. Your 3-year-old colt "Take A Chance on Me" won two of three races for last year's Triple Crown. The Thoroughbred originated in England in the 17th and 18th centuries from select breeding of foundation mares of native English or Oriental stock to three stallions imported from the Middle East. These stallions were the Darley Arabian, the Byerley Turk and the Godolphin Arabian. I prefer the possible story of the Godolphin Arabian the most, personally. The Thoroughbred breed went on to infuse other breeds in England and then America as well as to launch new ones here such as the Standardbred and Morgan. Finally, the poll is just behind the horse's forehead and the pastern is above the coronet of the hoof. And horse apples are what you're full of!"

Colonel Gavin Quinn gave Iris a long stare before his shoulders began to shake in amusement and a deep booming laugh erupted. "You're a little spitfire aintcha?"

Iris now believed she had severely overstepped herself not only in front of Grissom but also Ecklie and even Brass who she'd met in such an unorthodox way just a few minutes before. She stepped back to be sure she was just behind Grissom and now by Nick. "Did I blow it or what?" she whispered unhappily.

"Naw, lets see what happens," Nick whispered back.

"Well, it seems there's horse sense to be found here, Ecklie, so do I get what I'm asking for?" Colonel Quinn asked Ecklie who crooked a finger at Grissom.

"No, I want the little spitfire to handle this," Gavin shook his head.

"She's brand new here, Colonel, she can work the, uh, case with Gil supervising her," Ecklie protested.

"Iris can check with me if she has any questions," Grissom offered, knowing Ecklie couldn't fight this.

"Alright, the little lady gets the chance to prove this police department crime lab's worth its reputation," Colonel Quinn agreed and then turned to Ecklie. "She needs to get there now and I'll have my trainer here checking on things, Mr. Undersheriff, so give her the details of her assignment."

Iris glanced at the other man who had accompanied the colonel and who remained wordless even now. The colonel walked past Ecklie after giving his orders toward the elevators followed by the silent trainer.

After they had left, Ecklie said tersely, "Gil, bring your new recruit to my office."

Iris gulped nervously but Grissom reassured her, "His bark is worse than his bite."

Brass decided to give the newbie a verbal jab, "Hiyo, Silver, away."

She shot him a withering look as she went with Grissom to Ecklie's office.

Nick turned to go also but Brass caught his arm. "Think she can hold her own with Ecklie?"

"It's not Ecklie I'd worry about, Jim, but you," Nick said.

"Whaddya mean me? She's harmless," Brass jeered dismissively.

"I know how you like to put new CSI's through their paces sometimes and I'm just saying Iris'll surprise you so just be ready," Nick cautioned.

"My first impression of her is that she's not cut out to be a CSI, Nick. I see her more like doing soccer mom or Susie Homemaker stuff," Brass shrugged.

"She's heard that before, Brass man, when she decided to go to college to become a CSI. Iris worked her butt off to make it happen and succeeded, graduating with honors. That gal's a fighter and survivor in more ways than one," Nick pointed out with something of a cryptic air.

"Survivor? Whatever," Jim said but Nick found his tone patronizing. "See you tonight at shift, Stokes."

A now livid Conrad Ecklie straightened his suit jacket, just like the way Captain Picard did in _Star Trek: The Next _Generation Iris thought, before he sat down in his office chair. "Sit down," he said to Grissom and Iris in a tight voice.

"Ms. King, you made me look like a gibbering idiot in front of a high roller like the colonel but at the same time you did save face for us. For that I'm going to cut you a break since it's your first day here but don't think that scores points with me," Ecklie maintained with a pointing finger.

"I'm not out to score points with you, sir, and it was not my intention to put you in a bad light. It got my Irish up, so to speak, and for that I apologize," Iris said contritely.

"Conrad, how could it have gone if someone like Iris wasn't there at the time? I know generalities about equines, as does Nick, and I don't subscribe to coincidence, but she was an ace up our sleeve at that moment," Grissom said in an effort to placate Ecklie also.

"Point taken so here's the assignment, Ms. King. The colonel had one of his prize stallions, _The Winner Takes It All_, brought here to Vegas to breed with one of our illustrious governor's Thoroughbred mares. The stallion was found dead in its stall at the governor's ranch just north of the city. The colonel insists the stallion was in perfect health prior to arriving to the stable three days ago. He believes the horse somehow met with foul play and is demanding a murder investigation. My efforts to dissuade him and steer him to letting a state veterinarian do this were in vain as you heard. The colonel didn't hesitate in playing his trump cards of his association with the governor and mayor," Ecklie outlined and his body language still showed he was quite upset. "He also demanded that a homicide detective accompany the CSI who got the assignment."

"If I could get the address I've got a GPS in my Excursion and I'll be on my way. Can you tell which homicide detective will meet me there?" Iris got out her notepad to get the address.

Ecklie gazed at Iris for several moments and she could tell she was being scrutinized. Her face remained neutral during Ecklie's appraising stare. With something of a smirk, Ecklie then said, "I think Detective Brass would be the ideal man for this case. I'll call him to join you."

Iris sucked in a breath of surprise, the man she'd just met lying on top of her? Oh that was great, just great, a swell start to a working relationship!

Grissom tried to intervene on behalf of Brass. "Uh, Conrad, what about Detective Sam Vega? Jim's on his way home and last night was busy enough for him."

"I'll handle this part of assigning since the colonel relieved me of the other. Ms. King, you'll report to Gil throughout your investigation and Detective Brass will handle the, uh, would it be horsicide I suppose we'll have to call it. Fly away now, Ms. King, fly, fly, fly," Ecklie said with a forced smile reminding Iris exactly of Hannibal Lector in _Silence of the Lambs_.

As they left the office, Iris told Grissom just that and it was all he could do not to break out in laughter as they went on to his office. Before she left his office to go to the ranch, she astounded Grissom when she told him she had a secret way to acknowledge him as her true boss. With ever-present curiosity, he told her to show him and she went on to do sign language by tapping her right hand with a closed number 4 position, the letter B in signing, to her right shoulder.

"Where did you learn to sign?" Grissom asked because Iris couldn't have known about his mother or the hereditary condition of otosclerosis that he had had to deal with personally.

"When my grandmother lost her ability to speak due to progressive strokes, I learned to sign and then taught her. That was before the strokes eventually robbed her of the use of her hands," Iris said softly while Grissom saw sad memories cloud her eyes.

"I think rob is a good way to term that, Iris, you better get going," Grissom told her as his estimation of her went up another notch.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Brass pulled up to the Las Luces Brillantes Ranch owned by the state's governor. Jim knew the place well because he'd had to coordinate security for when the governor was having one of his "round ups" as he called it for big name celebrities to have a party weekend with a so-called Wild West flavor to it. It wasn't in his job description but when "favors got called in" he was the one tapped to make it happen. He told himself just a few more years, Jim boy, and you can retire with your pension and finish your cabin on that little cove off Lake Mead. He spied a young kid carrying a bucket and lowered his driver's window.

"Hey, is that the way to the stables? I'm Detective Jim Brass from the LVPD," he asked the kid while flashing his badge.

"Yes, sir," the kid pointed to a group of buildings that refreshed Brass' memory and he now saw horses in outside runs or going inside.

"Thanks," Brass said and headed his Dodge Charger toward the stables.

He saw the emerald green with gold trim Ford Excursion Limited parked by the main stable building. The Texas personalized license plate said "D-STARS" and was inside a Dallas Stars hockey plate frame. Decal stickers on the rear window said Got Puck?, Got Stick?, Got Hockey? Hockey Chick on Board! Other Dallas Stars decals also adorned the glass.

"Well, now, we have a serious puck girl here," Brass said aloud while scratching his chin in surprise. Another sneezing cough took him which he attributed to the dusty air he found himself in. He refused to consider the direction it might be headed in.

The trainer he'd seen with Colonel Quinn at the LVPD was standing by the entrance of the stable, glaring at his watch as Jim approached him and cleared his throat to get the trainer's attention.

"I'm Detective Brass from the…" Jim started to say.

"You and that investigator were expected sooner. The colonel won't like this," the trainer interrupted with an aggrieved expression.

"Look, pal, we got here as quick as we could! We do things proper and by the book, so the colonel being a military man will appreciate that. So, who are you and where's Investigator King?" Brass asked with upraised hands.

"I'm Marcus Baxter, the colonel's head horse trainer and main handler of his stallions. The investigator is already inside. The colonel's veterinarian will be here shortly. He had a, shall we say, long night in town," the trainer replied and his haughty air wasn't lost on Brass.

It could only mean the vet was hung over and getting his act together before coming to the stable Brass decided.

"Okay, Mr. Baxter, if you'll lead me to the, uh, scene of the alleged crime," Brass requested with a you-go-first move of his hand toward the stable.

Inside the 16' x 16' stall, Brass saw a large reddish-brown horse crumpled on the straw. Iris was taking a photograph when Brass announced himself. "Good morning, I followed my nose."

Iris looked up at him. "Well, I'll grant you have a hint of a proboscis so that could hold true."

"A prob..a what?" Jim inquired.

"It's not an insult, Detective, just noting you do have something of a prominent nose, which is a proboscis, so…," Iris began to reply.

"Hells bells, are you trying to be another Grissom? We only need the one," Jim snapped irritably, partly because he was bone-tired and partly not feeling a hundred percent.

"No, I was just answering your question, Detective," Iris replied quietly before resuming her picture taking. She wasn't going to let this man get her upset. It had been distracting enough to meet him how they had in the first place. They had been positioned to schtup as she called it in front of God and everybody. That kind of rattling she didn't need.

"Okay, pal, what happened here?" Jim changed his focus of attention to Marcus.

Iris shouldered her camera so she could hear again what Baxter had told her.

"As I informed Ms. King, I came in to do Winner's feeding. I see to the stallion's every need when we're away from the horse farm. When I entered the stable, I noticed Winner didn't have his head poking through the stall's upper door. He loves to eat and I knew right away something was wrong," Marcus said and looked to be near tears at this point.

"I was told the stallion's here to get busy with one of the mares, right? I did a little research on my way here, so why didn't this get done the new way with frozen stuff?" Brass asked as he took notes.

"The colonel doesn't subscribe to the use of frozen semen if that's what you mean. He prefers his stallions cover mares the traditional way, but this mare just came into heat and the governor was reluctant to fly her to Kentucky so as not to stress her," Marcus replied with a roll of his eyes.

"He's a handsome blood bay with black points and stockings. What a pity but how has the stallion's health been? Any recent illness or change in eating habits?" Iris now asked.

"Marcus said the vet's on his way here," Jim interjected.

"The detective is correct and Dr. Robles can better respond to questions, but Winner hasn't had any recent illness I'm aware of," Marcus declared.

"I'd like to you to gather anyone who was working last night who would've had access to the stables so I can interview other possible witnesses," Brass instructed Marcus.

"I'll see to it immediately, Detective," Marcus promised was turning to leave when a silver tabby cat went by him to try and enter the stall. The trainer knelt down and picked up a rock that he flung at the cat.

The cat's reaction was a startled hiss with arched back before it fled down the main hall to another stall. Iris didn't approve of any animal being mistreated and let that be known straight off.

"Why did you try to hit that poor cat with a rock? I don't think Detective Brass tolerates animal cruelty any more than I and you did that in front of a law enforcement officer," Iris protested vehemently.

"No, Investigator King, I don't tolerate that in the least," Brass said with a warning look at Baxter.

"It's just a stupid barn cat that's Winner's stable mate. Damn stray just showed up out of the blue one morning and was found in Winner's stall. I'd found the cat sleeping on his backside more than once or kneading him before lying down on the horse's rump near the tail. I detest cats and wish Winner's choice had been a dog or anything else, so I'd discourage that animal's presence at every turn. Winner was attached and the colonel ordered the cat be brought along to help keep the stallion calm," Baxter retorted before he left them.

"Y'know, Iris, not everyone likes cats," Jim commented.

"I get that but he's still a totally arrogant **jerk-off**," Iris said and her emphasis on the last word got Brass to chuckle. She took her camera out to resume taking photos.

"Agree with you there but I'm used to my crime victims having two legs and not four. I've had doubts over past cases of how the murderer walked on two. Still, I have something in common with this victim here," Brass remarked.

"Really, what would that be?" Iris queried, lowering her camera, and he knew he had curiosity piqued.

"We both used to be studs, and this guy's hung like a…er…well, it's obvious isn't it?" Brass joked while looking a bit enviously at the stallion's genitalia even in a relaxed state before he found himself receiving a head to toe look from Iris. Her eyes were a soft brown just then as her head cocked to the right slightly while her scrutiny continued.

"I wouldn't say used to be, Jim Brass, because you're still a virile specimen of masculinity," Iris declared in such a serious tone that he found himself grinning.

"I'll take that as a positive endorsement from the fair sex and that there's still hope for someone like me," he smirked.

"Where there's life, there's hope," Iris quoted. "Jim, you know I have a horse, right?"

"Yeah, Nick mentioned it and you brought it with you," Brass nodded. "You're probably a big animal lover then?"

"Kyrie is my horse's name and I have two retired police bloodhounds, Cyrano and Durante," Iris said with a faint smile, "but Animal Planet is a favorite channel."

"Blood hounds? Now that you'll have to explain that to me some time," Brass said in surprise.

"I will soon," Iris promised.

"Okay, well, let's see if the vet's made it here and Baxter's found some prospective staff I can chat with so I'll leave you to exercise your investigative expertise," Jim said and made his exit.

"He still hasn't called me Iris," she said to herself and found the silver tabby cat had returned with an inquisitive meow. "Hello, here to see your friend?"

The cat went directly to the corpse of the horse and jumped up onto the prone form on one hindquarter. The cat immediately went into a kneading motion near the root of the tail as if to try and rouse the horse, confirming to Iris what Baxter had stated.

"I'm sorry, little one, that won't help him," Iris sighed and petted the cat as its back arched in pleasure. She went out to the Excursion to briefly to retrieve her jam box so she could listen to music as she processed the scene.

Brass returned after doing a preliminary interview of staff that had been at the ranch during the night. The veterinarian was on his way but had been delayed when his rental car had a flat. He decided to see where Iris was with her investigation. As he came into the stable, he heard music playing and a female voice singing in duet with the song's male singer. To his surprise, it was coming from the stall Iris was working. He hung back a few feet to hear the song:

"_Well, I know there's a reason/And I know there's a rhyme/We were meant to be together/And that's why/We can roll with the punches/We can stroll hand in hand  
>And when I say it's foreverYou understand/That you're always in my heart/You're always on my mind/But when it all becomes too much/You're never far behind/And there's no one/That comes close to you/Could ever take your place/  
>'Cause only you can love me this way."<em>

Brass then heard Iris say instead of sing in a tone he found wistful: "Tell me, Keith. _I could have turned a different corner/I could have gone another place/Then I'd of never had this feeling/That I feel today, yeah/And you're always in my heart/Always on my mind/When it all becomes too much/You're never far behind."_

He rapped on the stall door to indicate his presence. "Hey."

Iris looked up startled before her head dropped a moment in embarrassment. "Uh, hey, please tell me you didn't hear me singing."

"You sing good so why hide it? I've seen people do stranger things at a crime scene," Brass reasoned.

"Well, it might seem out of place but music helps me focus when I'm doing this. If I can't sing then I'll hum so would either bother you for when we work together in the future?" Iris wanted to be sure they would be on the same page from here on out. She moved to turn off the boom box.

"Nope, it sounds nice actually," Brass shrugged. "You sing professionally?"

"Oh, heavens no, I just do it at church or home or in the car," Iris laughed and Jim found himself liking the slight musical quality it had.

"So you any idea of a cause or time of death since the vet's not here yet? I spoke with one of the stable workers who last checked on the horses around midnight. The staff I've spoken with all claim to have alibis but we'll get that established," Brass redirected themselves back to the victim.

"I'd say within the last four to six hours. No rigor of the extremities. The veterinarian will do a necropsy, but I've taken samples for our lab to process on our own. I'm sure the colonel will want another lab to have as a second opinion and with his deep pockets, he'll get a quick turnaround on an answer," Iris surmised.

"Our crime lab'll have just as quick turnaround with reliable results," Brass informed her confidently and pride could be heard in his voice.

Baxter returned just then accompanied by a shorter man wearing sunglasses who he now introduced. "This is Dr. Mike Robles, our staff veterinarian."

To Brass, this guy still smelled of vodka, likely wearing the sunglasses to cover photosensitive bloodshot eyes.

"Dr. Robles, I'm Detective Jim Brass and this is Investigator Iris King. We're from the LVPD and have been assigned this case at the colonel's request," Brass did his own introduction, Iris glancing at him in mild surprise to be addressed as more than Investigator King.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both. What's been done thus far?" Dr. Robles said absently before his question and pointed at Winner.

"I've processed the stall and taken samples of the straw, remaining feed and water as well as wood from the walls. I've also taken routine samples of blood, saliva, fecal, tissue and hair from the horse. My tape measurements give me a gross height of 17 hands with an approximate weight of eleven hundred pounds," Iris summarized for the veterinarian.

"You've got his height and weight right. I've made arrangements for a necropsy to be done at a laboratory in Vegas. The truck will be here within the hour to take Winner there," Dr. Robles told them all.

"Was Winner current on all required vaccinations, in general good health, had a clean Coggins test?" Iris asked the veterinarian.

"Of course he was current on the required vaccinations and horses require a negative Coggins test before they can be transported anywhere. He had a recent upper respiratory infection but antibiotics took care of that!" Dr. Robles exclaimed as if Iris were questioning his professional capacity.

"How recent was that?" Iris continued to ask while taking more notes.

"It was what, Marcus, about two weeks ago?" Dr. Robles turned to the trainer.

"Yes, I'd say that," Baxter confirmed.

"You judged Winner was fit for air travel from Kentucky to here?" Brass now asked, and Iris' slight head nod told him he was right to query.

"Yes, yes and yes, Detective. I declared the horse medically fit to travel. The colonel would likely have me whipped if I misdiagnosed Winner!" Dr. Robles insisted before adding. "I've other matters related to the necropsy if you'll excuse me!"

The veterinarian made a hasty exit.

"The colonel doesn't like to wait so don't blame Dr. Robles. The man ought to give his staff credit once in a while, " Marcus said bitterly.

"Difficult boss I take it…hard to please?" Brass said sympathetically.

"Gavin's pride and joy was Winner and when Winner was found, he started to accuse everyone in sight, starting with me. He was in a rage, said we were all incompetent, that someone had murdered his best horse to get back at him. Gavin promised we'd all pay," Marcus replied.

"Sounds like anyone might have an axe to grind," Jim observed.

"How long have you worked for the colonel?" Iris queried.

"Too long now I think but to answer your question fifteen years," Marcus sighed. "Detective Brass, you have a list of our personnel as well as the governor's who worked last night. Do you require anything else right now?"

"No but we'll be in touch," Jim said and the trainer left as quickly as the veterinarian had.

"I'll get these samples back to the lab and request a rush on processing," Iris said and placed what she'd collected into a large clear plastic tub and then got her jam box.

"Here, I'll carry that," Brass insisted.

"Ah, male chivalry isn't extinct," Iris remarked.

"Well, some women are quick to say they're liberated and don't want that stuff done so it's hard for us guys to know," Jim retorted.

"Point taken, mon capitan, but I for one do appreciate it, merci," Iris said with a playful arm nudge as they approached the Excursion.

"That's a helluva big vehicle for a short person like you to drive," Jim observed as she opened the rear door for him to place the bin in. He noted she had a well stocked large investigation box with labels to identify its contents kit besides the smaller case she carried.

"Well, having Kyrie I need something suitable to pull his trailer and I was a youth group sponsor at my Dallas church, so this bad boy gets me where I need to be," Iris replied while patting the SUV.

"I take it you're into hockey too," Brass noted, pointing at her license plate and the rear window decals after he'd closed the door.

"Yeah, it ticked off my husband when the Stars moved to Dallas in '93. He had his Cowboys and Mavericks, and Indy hadn't had a team since the Racers folded in '78," Iris popped off and then she looked down for several moments.

"Hey, Nick told us what happened to him, I'm sorry," Jim tried to apologize.

"No worries, Jim, it was a long time ago and I'm over it. I try not to think of him because that wasn't a good time in my life," Iris said lightly. "You ought to go see your doctor because that's a junky cough you got there. See you back at the lab."

Brass watched her maneuver the big SUV with ease as she waved and headed back to the main drive to leave the ranch. He returned the wave but she left him curious to know more about her.

Grissom was going over a case file when Iris knocked on his door. He glanced up and was motioning her in when Iris saw someone seated across from him. She determined the person to be female given the body shape and long brownish blond hair.

"Uh, Griss, sorry to bother you, I can come back," Iris offered.

"Come on in, Iris, I'd like you to meet Riley Adams, our newest CSI," Grissom said pleasantly. He had to introduce the two women at some point so it might as well be now and to see how they interacted. Riley was unaware of the circumstances regarding her hiring and that of Iris.

"Hiya, Riley, great to meet you, I'm new here myself from Dallas. I was hired for the swing team and I'm sure our paths will cross. Griss, I turned in all the samples from the "all the king's horses" case to the lab for processing. I'm going to try and get in to observe the necropsy over when I find out where it's being done ," Iris informed him.

"All the king's horses?" Riley interrupted with a blank look.

"That's just what I dubbed the first case I'm working here," Iris said, "it's from…"

"Let me hazard a guess here, Iris, and tell me if I'm wrong," Grissom interrupted and then quoted. "All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty together again."

"You win a spread for the team that I'll prepare in the near future, so let me know what food to make," Iris pointed at him with a grin and walked out.

"If she's on swing shift, why is she reporting to you?" Riley asked.

"Rich Bailey is the swing supervisor but he's still out with the flu, so for now I've agreed to oversee any case administrative duties for his team to help his assistant Betty who's new to the position," Grissom replied while in the back of his mind he began to consider what Iris might make for the spread. Nick's comments of her cooking abilities would be put to the test.

Iris had finished for the day and was going toward the locker area when she heard a series of explosive sneezes and deep coughing coming from an office with glass walls. She couldn't make out the person whose face was buried in a handkerchief but poked her head in to say, "God bless you! That's some sneezing, is your nose still on?"

The handkerchief lowered and she was facing Jim Brass. "Yeah, my proboscis is attached. That's my word of the day, y'know. I gotta get some more handkerchiefs, these get polluted fast."

"Why won't you get checked out? That could be bronchitis or even pneumonia," Iris admonished gently.

"I don't like going to doctors, okay! I've been in a hospital one too many times," Brass snorted with a pained look. The handkerchief was monogrammed with his initials of JB Iris silently noted after her initial observation earlier.

"Well, a nurse practitioner could look you over if you're phobic about doctors," Iris tried a different tactic, now recalling Brass had been shot and what a stressor that had been for Nick and his team mates.

"If she's wearing one of those sexy outfits with white stiletto heels, then I might. You know nurses like cops and treat 'em right," Jim seemed to consider with a weak wolf whistle.

"My nursing license is good here in Nevada but it's as a licensed vocational nurse, so I couldn't prescribe you anything," Iris informed him with a wink. "You want to go get some lunch?"

"Well, if I never need a personal nurse that's good to know and while I appreciate your offer of lunch I'm headed home," Brass declined politely.

"Fine, some other time then," Iris said and headed on down the hallway, thinking to herself _"Sheesh, I didn't ask him out on a date_."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Dr. Robles again voiced his discontent to Marcus Baxter about Iris attending the necropsy in progress on Winner. He was suffering from the monstrous hangover and doing his best to pull it together. The CSI was due any minute but Dr. Robles wouldn't let it go. He was afraid she'd pick up on a sign to show his compromised status. "Why can't she just receive my report and the video?"

"Hell, Mike, will you quit beating a dead horse over this? The colonel's given her full access. None of us can go against that," Marcus replied grimly, his reference to the famous saying causing the veterinarian to groan.

Iris now entered the room. "Hello, have I missed much?"

"No, Ms. King, you haven't. At least you made sure to be gowned and gloved," Dr. Robles was particularly dismissive and Iris knew her presence wasn't welcome.

"I'll be happy to assist you if you need, Dr. Robles, I've participated in human postmortems. Just tell me what I can do," Iris offered quietly.

"Well, let's put the taxpayers' dollars to work, hand me a scalpel," Dr. Robles snapped irritably. Iris wouldn't mention her past work experience as a nurse. She'd had her share of dealings with the ego of more than one physician. The fact this one's specialty was non-human didn't change anything.

x x x x x

Four days later, Grissom went into the break room and found Iris with her nose crinkled and a double sideways move of her chin while she stared at her laptop. He found it amusing and decided to check up on her. While Iris was still his first choice for his team, Riley was proving to be a good addition in spite of the circumstances and Iris' agreeing to work on swing had negated any possible friction. Rich Bailey remained out because his flu had worsened now to pneumonia and the assistant swing supervisor was covering things while looking to Grissom for input. Because Ecklie had told the colonel that Iris would be under his supervision during her investigation, he'd kept in close contact with her and was pleased with how quickly she'd acclimated to how their crime lab operated.

"Problems?" Grissom asked with a benign smile.

"Oh, hey, I'm not agreeing with the diagnosis Dr. Robles came up with. He says Winner aspirated his feed and suffered secondary aspiration pneumonia because pulmonary edema was found at the necropsy with feed particles in the lungs," Iris grumbled and added. "On top of that, I go to close on my house this afternoon."

"Congratulations. So, what's your theory?" Grissom sat down beside her and saw she was reading an internet article.

"My ducks aren't all in a row yet pending lab results from the blood, saliva, fecal, tissue and the necropsy organ samples I've submitted which Dr. Robles was reluctant to share. I believe the horse had acute respiratory paralysis and that aspiration pneumonia is contributory but masking the true culprit," Iris declared with a rueful head shake. "I'm sticking to this case alone right now but shouldn't I be involved on swing doing something else too?"

"Ecklie wants you on the assignment until the case is solved with the political favor he could gain if there's a successful outcome," Grissom informed her as her eyebrows rose in surprise.

"But what if I screw the pooch on my investigation? Ecklie'll be the lawnmower and my you-know-what's the grass. I know a brown-noser when I see it and he's one who wants to get ahead," Iris replied, her finger tapping on her notes.

"While I don't disagree with your take on Ecklie, I want you to keep your focus and pursue the evidence. If your interpretation of the facts differs from the veterinarian's findings, it won't be the first time one of my CSI's interpretations of the facts overrode that of an expert," Grissom encouraged with a pat on her shoulder.

"Thanks, your confidence sure bolsters mine," Iris allowed with a smile.

"_Insisto testimonium_," Grissom intoned solemnly with the grave expression of an instructor.

"Umm, crap, I took Latin in high school and got razzed for it. Shoot…wait for it…follow the evidence," Iris said after several moments of brain racking.

"Very good, grasshopper," Grissom said with a smile of approval before he left.

"A bug reference, how Grissomish," Iris sighed in part admiration and part acknowledgement that the man was attractive before telling herself. "Ack, get your head back in the game and show your stuff!"

x x x x x

The swing shift assistant supervisor, Betty Malone, had granted her permission to come late to shift for the closing at the title company. Iris strolled through the house and smiled at the potential the place had, thankful for the ideas the Home and Garden cable channel had given her. She'd have to ask Nick if they did "the party" here in Vegas or not. She got on her cell phone to call the movers who'd bring the furniture from her storage unit. Yup, she had much to do, the first of which was get back to the Homewood Suites to fix the spread she'd promised Grissom and the team.

Brass was heading to his office when his nose told him there was a major food fest in the vicinity. He couldn't recall a memo or email saying there was going to be a meal provided for the LVPD or crime lab graveyard shift. He walked to the break room and found a line there comprised of Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Riley and Greg, followed the lab rat brigade of Hodges, Wendy, Henry and Mandy. Nick looked like he was ready to chew a hole in the wall.

"Gil, what gives?" Brass asked before the wheezing cough he couldn't shake interrupted him.

"Iris is celebrating her buying a house by bringing us a dinner spread," Grissom replied. "Haven't you been to the doctor about that yet?"

"It's a damn cold, that's all, and I don't need a white coat to tell me what I already know," Brass insisted.

"Be careful, you know Rich is in the hospital now with his flu that morphed into pneumonia," Grissom admonished.

"Yeah, I heard, so what's the menu in there?" Brass changed the subject.

"Prepare to feast, Brass man!" Nick was rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"Hey, Jim, to answer your question, here's what's inside. I got it set up buffet style so help yourselves to walnut-sage-pesto turkey breast, almond rolls, walnut-orange-cranberry relish, mashed red russet potatoes, mixed vegetable dressing casserole and pumpkin pie tarts," Iris said wearing an apron emblazoned hot stuff. She gave a little bow with a beckoning wave.

Grissom pushed Brass ahead of him, "Go for it Jim!"

The team, Brass and the lab rats ate themselves nearly into a stupor over the next several minutes. Iris positioned herself in a corner and surveyed the gusto with which they ate with a slight smile of satisfaction. The lab rats stayed long enough to thank Iris before they had to get back to their respective work assignments. Brass needed to go after he took a quick call from dispatch for a 419. Before leaving he walked up to Iris. "I guess Stokes was telling the truth when he said you were a whiz in the kitchen. Did it take you long to make?"

"Oh maybe few hours but not bad, my captain," Iris grinned. "With all the places you can eat in Vegas, I hope my effort was palatable."

"Sign me up for your future efforts," Brass smirked before another racking cough caught him.

"Have you…," Iris began when Brass made a slashing motion across his throat.

"No," he replied with a growl.

"Uh, well, Nick, do you and the team ever do the party favor?" Iris turned to the tall Texan who was in the middle of downing a pumpkin pie tart.

"Party favor?" Brass glanced at Grissom who shook his head. Jim decided to delay his exit to hear what Iris was talking about.

"Aw, Iris, that was a slick way to go about it. Okay, back in Dallas we'd hold a party if there was a team member who needed help with a big household project. Iris always came through with the food part, so we've been fed and if we agree she needs help with her place," Nick explained. "Whatever you need Iris, I'm on board!"

"I'm in," Grissom promised.

"Me too," Catherine said.

"Make that three," Greg said with raised hand.

"I'll go along," Riley nodded.

"Well, if this isn't limited to the CSI's, I'm game," Brass chimed in before adding, "I gotta go but if there's leftovers…"

"I'll make you a plate," Iris pledged.

There was a commotion in the hallway then of shouts and whistles, prompting everyone in the break room to come in time to see one of the female CSI's from the swing shift with a police officer kneeling in front of her. They were flanked by other crime lab workers as well as some uniformed officers.

"Hey, Jalene finally got Benji to pop the question!" Nick exclaimed by Iris.

"Another bachelor detective bites the dust," Jim observed between heavy sniffles. "Our ranks just got thinner."

"She's waited three years on him, Jim, I'd say she's been patient," Catherine declared.

"I give 'em five years tops," Brass said and then hurried out.

After the team gave congratulations to the happy couple, they returned to the break room where Iris presented her need to the group. "The rooms needed painted and I will make a BBQ meal for those who can come."

A time was agreed upon and then the team dispersed once Grissom gave out assignments. Iris set herself to cleaning up and was humming contentedly when Grissom silently checked on her before he went with Catherine to cover the 419 call Brass had left to take.

It was sunrise the next morning when Brass returned to his office, having gotten a text from Iris to check the break room refrigerator. The 419 had happened after a guy got knifed over a gambling debt he was trying to collect. An APB for a suspect had been issued; the creep already had a long rap sheet. Jim felt it wouldn't be long before he'd be in custody. Wanting a positive change of scenery, he went to the break room and true to her word he found a large foil-covered plate. The woman could cook he admitted and hoped to be able to attend future spreads she prepared. He didn't have much of an appetite but was determined to eat every bite. The coughing was getting worse by the day and he might have to go see a doctor but he wasn't to the point he'd give in and go.

x x x x x

Later the same morning Iris had returned to the governor's ranch to again go over the stall which remained in its original condition when Winner had collapsed at the request of the colonel. The governor had agreed when told that the colonel had agreed to reserve some of Winner's postmortem-collected semen to inseminate his mare. The rest of the frozen sperm would be kept to continue his breeding program with. The chance to turn something good out of the tragedy had caused the colonel to offer a handsome price for any progeny that resulted.

Iris found the silver tabby cat curled up on a bale of straw by the stall and lifted it up to hold while it purred away happily. That cat kneaded its paws contentedly on her chest as she winced slightly at nearly feeling the claws through her CSI vest. She noticed the dirt encrusting the cat's claws and something clicked. Iris put the cat down and found a stable worker.

"Where is Dr. Robles? I'm Investigator King from the crime lab," Iris asked urgently.

"He's with the colonel and the governor watching the mare Winner was to cover be impregnated, hopefully," the stable worker replied and pointed to a nearby smaller barn.

Iris pulled out her cell phone to call Grissom as she hurried toward the building.

"What's up, Iris?" she heard Grissom ask between two yawns.

"Griss, I'm terribly sorry to wake you up but I'm back at the ranch and I want to put this past you before I see the colonel," Iris apologized and then told Grissom her thoughts.

"Your findings are congruent with the evidence and the hypothesis plausible. You have my support and go ahead to meet the colonel. Let me know what happens even if it means waking me up again," Grissom instructed and hung up.

Iris breathed a silent prayer to have mental clarity as she entered the barn. Colonel Gavin Quinn saw her, as did Dr. Robles and Marcus Baxter. She noted a dour expression on the veterinarian and Marcus looked like he'd just drunk spoiled milk.

"Well, little lady, I had your crime lab results compared to those I had done at an independent lab privately after Winner's necropsy. Dr. Robles' assessment that the horse had aspirated and developed acute pneumonia because of the lung edema and inflammation is backed up. I'm satisfied that Winner's death was accidental but my people should've been more observant," Colonel Quinn said facing Iris and he didn't see the darkening scowls of his trainer and veterinarian.

"Colonel, if you'd indulge me, I just have a few final questions for Dr. Robles," Iris requested.

"Miss King, Ecklie told me that you'll be riding for the Sheriff's Mounted Posse as well as doing your CSI work, so I suppose you didn't make that known thinking I'd view it as a way to gain favor?" Gavin asked with an amused look.

"Perhaps, sir, may I ask my questions," Iris persisted.

"Yes, I'm interested to hear where this goes," the colonel acquiesced.

"Dr. Robles, was Winner current on all of his vaccinations?" Iris turned toward the veterinarian.

"Yes, of course, on all required vaccinations, why?" Dr. Robles replied with an irritated look.

"Was Winner ill recently?" Iris posed another question.

"He'd had a recent upper respiratory tract infection treated successfully. I cleared him as fit to fly here. The colonel and Marcus agreed," Dr. Robles insisted.

"Was he ever vaccinated for botulism?" Iris countered quietly.

"Botulism?" Dr. Robles sputtered indignantly. "That isn't a routine vaccination protocol for any of the colonel's horses, besides proving that diagnosis will be difficult if not impossible!"

"Investigator King, just what in the devil are you driving at? Dr. Robles wouldn't have cleared Winner for air travel if the animal wasn't in good health," Marcus protested.

"Let's hear the little lady out," Colonel Quinn put up a cautioning hand.

"As you must know, Clostridium botulism is found in the soil in Kentucky. It can be contracted through puncture wounds in horses and thus known as wound botulism. If you check Winner's body at the root of the tail you will find minute puncture wounds in thickened tissue that callused up over time where Winner's feline stable mate repeatedly kneaded at the same spot. Mr. Baxter alluded to this in a prior conversation. The symptoms of progressive motor paralysis, disturbed vision, difficulty in chewing and swallowing, and generalized progressive weakness with death usually due to respiratory or cardiac paralysis. Winner's respiratory paralysis and the resultant pulmonary edema were contributory to his feed aspiration but also his compromised immune system from the recent respiratory infection. This allowed the botulism to have an accelerated cycle and caused Winner's death to occur much faster than usual. If you perform additional cultures and studies, I think you will find this to be the true cause of death which was indeed accidental," Iris summarized.

Dr. Robles said nothing but made a snort of disdain.

Marcus shook his head, "I should've run over that cat when I had the chance."

Iris glanced at him through narrowed eyes. "Colonel, if the stable cat is at risk I want to take him with me."

"Don't fret, Miss Iris. That troublemaker's staying behind and will have a good home here. The stable manager here will see to it," Gavin replied genially. It may be a long shot, little lady, but I'm willing to put some faith in your conclusions. You're willing to contradict my vet and that's gutsy on your part. You can tell your boss Grissom you did a good job," Colonel Gavin told her and Iris knew she was being dismissed.

On her way back to Vegas, Iris promptly called Grissom to relay the colonel's positive reception of her findings. She kept the conversation brief so her true boss could get back to sleep. She did the same as a courtesy to Brass, wondering if the ring tone she'd chosen for his number was reckless on her part. She let the thought go as her mind now went forward to preparing for the paint party to take place at her new home.

x x x x x

Jim didn't need a GPS. He'd been in Vegas long enough that he knew every nook and cranny north, south, east and west of the city. Iris' house was in a decent area in the far northern end of town. He pulled up and saw the vehicles of the CSI team parked in the driveway and in front of the modest stucco style home. A painting party he mused to himself. It was the first thing Grissom's team had done together since what had happened surrounding Warrick's murder.

This was a positive thing to do he decided but he wasn't entirely sure why he was supposed to be here. He had indirectly committed himself at the team spread, but he wasn't a CSI yet Grissom told him later it wouldn't be the same if he wasn't there. Brass worked the closest with Grissom and his team as opposed to the day and swing shift CSI's and on rare occasions he joined the graveyard team to eat but that'd been the extent of social interaction. Grudgingly he'd admitted to Grissom that Iris' findings about their case made sense because his side of the investigation hadn't shown a red herring for a suspect amongst the colonel's or governor's staff to prove sufficient motive. Now it was a matter of letting the lab findings from the evidence gathered determine if Iris or the vet had the cause of death pinpointed.

He was a bit embarrassed being in the worst clothes he could find at home to use to do painting: a ratty gray Boston Bruins T-shirt and NPD (Newark Police Department) workout shorts. Jim locked the Charger and went up to ring the doorbell, now inhaling the smell of barbeque and feeling hungry. He stared a moment at the sign posted by it in bold calligraphic script of "Dance as if no one was watching. Sing as if no one was listening. And live every day as if it were your last." His memory of the song played at the wake for Warrick was jogged.

Jim took in the words for several moments before committing himself to ring it and then stepped back a bit when canine baying resulted. Brass then heard a female voice he was getting to know well say sharp words in a language unknown to him. The commotion ceased as the door opened.

"Hey, Jim, glad you could make it, come on in," Iris greeted him, herself clad in a well worn Dallas Stars green 1999 Stanley Cup championship shirt and denim capris and a Dallas Stars white ball cap.

Two bloodhounds sat just inside in the entryway, tails eagerly thumping the floor and panting happily.

"Uh, do they bite?" Jim asked eyeing the dogs suspiciously.

"Not unless you bite me first," Iris laughed and added, "they are security trained but in general big pups. This is Cyrano and Durante, brothers from the same litter, former police scent dogs. Just give 'em a scratch behind the ears and they'll show you where the valuables are."

Coming into the house, Jim heard music playing that could be heard throughout the place. Brass gingerly leaned over to pet each of the dogs and follow through with the obligatory ear scratches. The large dogs responded in fawning all over him, causing Iris to grin his way. "My dogs have a nose for character, Jim, so you've won them over. They generally take a while to warm up to people they don't know. I gotta get them back next door or I'll have paw prints in paint. Be back in a jiffy. Cool shirt, sir, Bruins are a great team!"

Grissom spied Brass and walked up, a paint roller in one hand. "Jim, so you decided to come, eh?"

"I didn't have anything better to do today, Gil," Brass shrugged.

"Okay, Da Vinci, put your butt to use," Catherine appeared suddenly and Jim felt the handle of paint brush plied in his hand.

"Where do I go?" Jim asked.

"C'mon, you can help me finish the master bedroom, it's the last door," Catherine said, locking elbows with him and taking him down the hallway.

Jim saw Nick and Greg rolling away furiously in the middle bedroom. Riley was working on the hallway bathroom. Grissom had returned to put finishing touches on the living room. Drop cloths covered the furniture and floors throughout the house.

"Hey, Catherine, remember the bet if we finish the room before you and Brass!" Nick hollered when he saw them walk past.

"What bet?" Jim questioned.

"Ignore Nicky. Be careful, we finished the hallway earlier but the walls are still damp," Catherine warned.

"Like these clothes are gonna notice," Brass retorted, still wondering about what the bet consisted of.

"Actually, I'm kind of surprised to see you but it's a great way to help Iris feel she's welcome," Catherine remarked while she popped the lid off a paint can and poured some into a paint tray. She then handed it to Brass. The color was a cool mint green. "Iris picked great colors – desert sand, rose, mint green, they echo the natural colors around here."

"Yeah, I have to add home and garden channel to the DVR. Well, you guys rarely invite me along for anything if you recall," Jim reminded while he dipped his paint brush. He glanced about the room wondering where to start.

"Hey, we'll do the trim areas and then finish with the rollers. You know after what's happened…maybe…maybe we should start doing more together not only as a team but kind of like family," Catherine told him when her blue eyes suddenly darkened with sadness. "Damn, Jim, it's not fair….he should be here too."

Her head dropped as Jim heard a faint sniffle and he went to hug her close. "He's probably haunting us right now, kiddo."

Catherine laughed weakly against his chest when Iris suddenly walked in and saw them embracing. She flushed a bright pink and backpedaled stammering, "Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"It's not what you think, King!" Brass said with an irritated snort.

"Iris, honest, Jim's right. I was having a sad moment that's all," Catherine explained.

"Uh, I just wanted to let you know lunch'll be ready in about an hour and a half. I figure the painting will be done by then. We'll be having cherry BBQ brisket, ribs and ham, maple baked beans, grilled asparagus pasta salad and grilled fruit kabobs," Iris informed them hastily and left.

"She probably thinks we have a thing for each other," Jim huffed, "but the lunch sounds worth staying for. Look for what it's worth I agree with what you said. You and Gil and those guys are the closest I've got to family except for Ellie, then my mother and brother back in Newark."

"I think Gil would wax philosophical and say something about the parallel between painting these white walls and that we're having a fresh start," Catherine opined as she pulled away from Brass.

"That's some sort of Zen bologna," Jim agreed and then they both got after it to get the room finished, both determined not to lose to the younger CSI's.

x x x x x

Grissom was manning the grill for Iris while she pulled off the fruit kabobs. Her patio was covered by an arbor under which the team was seated comfortably at two patio tables while they ate. Brass was unashamedly on his third helping of everything when he saw Iris sneaking a glance his way. He winked at her and patted his stomach to show he was enjoying the food.

"Hey, King, when I got here you said something weird to make your dogs mind. You care to explain?" Brass asked curiously.

Iris didn't know how much Nick had told the team about her and she'd rather they hear it first hand from her. She quickly served the fruit kabobs and seated herself by Jim. "Have any of you ever heard of the Dallas serial murderer known as the FTD Lady Killer from a couple of years ago?"

There was a chorus of positive responses from the group.

Iris knew Grissom was aware of her history partly from Nick and also during their frequent correspondences after she had accepted his job offer, it had been a topic of discussion. Grissom was satisfied she had come full circle with the experience and it hadn't factored at all in his decision to hire her beyond that.

"There were a total of seven victims, but the seventh survived and her testimony put the killer away for life in a maximum security psychiatric hospital. He was a homicide detective on the Dallas Police Department, someone the seventh victim knew well but only the side he let his coworkers know," Iris told them like it was a bedtime story.

"Yeah but the identity of the seventh victim was never revealed. The press went nuts over that but the court record was sealed to protect the victim," Greg said before he looked at Iris as the light went off.

"How would you know the seventh victim knew he was a homicide detective?" Riley queried with a raised eyebrow.

"It was you?" Brass suddenly blurted in near disbelief.

"Detective Max Schneider was a good friend but wanted more than that from me and when I rebuffed him he marked me as number seven," Iris confirmed with a head nod.

"Ouch, that'd make you sour on other detectives, huh?" Brass interjected.

"Truth is I've always liked their company and have several as friends," Iris reassured him with a wink.

"How'd you get away?" Catherine gasped.

"Being handcuffed to a bed buck naked with the promise of a gentle rape before I died made me think what am I gonna do! So I beg to go the bathroom first while promising him to give him the ride of his life after I'm done just to try and make a plan. I found an umbrella in there and when Max opened the door, I pulled a fencing move while au natural which is a sight in itself that'd cause instant blindness before I clobbered him with it," Iris was self-deprecating and demonstrated an en garde and then a lunge that caused the group to break up in loud laughter.

"How'd you adjust to something like that?" Riley asked, now looking at Iris differently.

"And how does that tie in with your dogs, you didn't say?" Brass added.

"The first several months were tough. The dogs were being retired and I wanted four-footed protection, so I had them security trained but the commands I wanted to use had to be an obscure language someone else wouldn't readily know. I opted for Navajo like in the movie "_The Wind Talkers_," Iris divulged while looking at Brass.

"You've had some rough patches with losing your husband and then that," Catherine said with a low whistle.

"Does that have anything to do with that sign posted by the doorbell?" Brass now asked pointedly.

Grissom observed neutrally as Brass' interest mirrored the rest of the group as they were getting to know Iris better.

"It's only by humor that I truly got over what happened where Max was concerned. There came a time I wanted to make a change and that's why I'm here now. I decided to take up fencing again like I did in high school and to have a horse, learn dancing, and realize some passions in life. So, yeah, the sign is appropriate for me," Iris nodded.

"So that would be your _le code de vie," _Brass observed, Grissom looking his way in surprise.

"Yes, mon capitan, indeed it is," Iris acknowledged.

"Well, explain the swords and daggers on your bed? Is that to ward off potential suitors?" Brass snickered.

"I collect as a hobby and those are decorative art. I do fancy blades but perhaps to the right guy that'll be a turn-on," Iris said with a tart look.

The sky was beginning to change from day to early evening and the painting party was winding down. Everyone was full of food and the painted walls throughout the house were nearly dry. Brass felt nature's call and the hallway bathroom was in use. He remembered seeing the other bathroom in the master bedroom and went on in. Jim found Iris seated on a cedar chest at the foot of her bed, looking at a photo album with a profoundly sad expression on her face. She looked up when he came in and abruptly put the album on her bed.

"Uh, I need to take a leak and the other one's in use, can I use the one in here?" Jim asked bluntly.

"Sure, go for it," Iris said straight-faced.

After taking care of business, Jim came back out and Iris was still seated on the cedar chest with a distant look in her eyes.

"Um, interesting cedar chest you got there, sort of unusual to see a coat of arms pattern on the wood panels. That rocking chair over in the corner looks old as dirt too, so you must be into antiques," he joked while he came to sit by her. "Are you okay?"

Iris felt his concern was sincere. "They're the only ones I have but there's a story to those pieces."

"Do tell. I got a few minutes before I need to leave, clue me in," Jim said amiably.

"My grandmother left me the cedar chest to be my hope chest and the rocking chair is as old as dirt I think," Iris smiled faintly at the memories being stirred up. "My grandmother wanted me to store things I'd use as a bride in the chest and rock my own babies to sleep one day in the rocking chair. You see she stayed with us when her health declined and I went to nursing school to help care for her. My mom was a nurse and it was a practical career choice at the time."

"Go on, I got time," Brass glanced at his watch and figured if he was a little late so what.

"My maternal grandmother raised us on the story that when someone died they saw a rainbow of beautiful light. Grandma was in hospital and I'd promised myself she wouldn't be alone if it was her time. I was there as much as I could be while working full time. I got the call she was sinking fast and on my way she died. So you see I broke two promises, one to her and one to me. I didn't get to see her rainbow," Iris finished softly, her eyes misting from the painful memories.

"Tough break," Jim said, "but you have to know she's smiling down on you from up there and is proud of you."

"I dunno, Jim, I had a crappy marriage and no babies to rock to sleep. I always saw myself having that but life doesn't always go to plan does it?" Iris reckoned.

"Don't sell yourself short. You turned lemons into lemonade I think. Uh, I need to do another tour of duty before I go," Brass pointed to the bathroom.

Iris nodded and then faced him with a fixed smile. "Say bye before you plow, okay?"

She closed the door behind her and Jim knew the smile to be false just as his reason to go to the bathroom had been. He'd hoped she would leave. His head full of questions was coupled with a detective's curiosity as he reached for the photo album to thumb through. It was supposed to be a wedding album but there were next to no pictures. She'd been married by a justice of the peace with only a few guests present. David was taller with dark hair, a hawk-like nose, pale blue eyes, and a thin-lipped mouth that seemed to conceal a hint of cruelty. He had a look of being arrogantly intelligent. A day that for Iris should've been full of promise and happiness, but only was a time in her life she had bluntly called crappy. Beside the album was a framed picture with the words embroidered into cloth: "_The measure of love is what one is willing to give up for it._" He'd learned some things about her today, surprising things, leaving him wanting to know her better.

His sneezing and coughing were still plaguing him and he knew it wasn't getting better. Hearing about Rich Bailey's being in the hospital with a flu complicated by pneumonia had his attention.

Jim saw Iris in the kitchen loading up the dishwasher on his way out. Grissom was closing the patio day after checking on the BBQ grill one last time.

"Good vittles, have me over any time," Brass told her with a thumbs up but covered his face then with a paper towel to sneeze into.

"Hey my place is 24/7 for any of you always," she grinned with a wave before admonishing, "Get yourself something for that bad cold of yours!

Brass' response was a head nod but Iris took that as "yeah, yeah, yeah." Lord, this man was stubborn she thought.

"Jim, I'm out too. Iris, catch you at work," Grissom said following Brass out.

As they walked to their vehicles, Jim took a last look at the house. "Gil, she don't act like she's got the baggage she oughtta."

"Like some of us, she needed to make a change for the better but if I had any doubts I wouldn't let her have a politically sensitive case like the one you worked with her. If you had any doubts about her you'd have told me. She's a good criminalist and I'm pleased to have her even though it can't be on the team," Grissom responded, but Jim felt the "some of us" meant him.

"Does she know the circumstances about her and Riley?" Jim wondered as they neared their vehicles.

"Yes and there was no drama about. She and Riley have interacted well and I don't anticipate any problems, do you?" Grissom replied.

"No, I guess not, she's just got a history I wouldn't have guessed unless I had the details," Jim considered before he got into his Charger to leave. He might just have to pay a visit to the Walgreen's near his house and take Iris' advice. He was steadfast though in his resolve about not going to see a doctor.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Nearly a week later, Iris was supposed to go home at the end of her swing shift but Grissom had texted her that she needed to come by his office. No reason was given beyond that but Iris didn't question it and swung by the lab. Grissom was in the middle of feeding his tarantula a cricket when Iris knocked on the office door. Nick and Catherine were also seated in his office. They all watched with macabre fascination as the tarantula quickly dispatched the cricket

"Thanks for coming by, Iris, please come in," Grissom beckoned with the forceps that had just dropped the cricket to its doom. He then turned his attention to a folder and removed some papers.

"Esau doesn't waste any time," Catherine observed.

"Esau?" Iris asked, recognizing the Old Testament name.

"Griss' name for his African red baboon tarantula," Nick gestured at the glass aquarium where the large arachnid resided with its latest meal.

"Apt," Iris agreed, "Esau being Hebrew for ruddy and described as hairy in appearance in Genesis."

"Well, we got our Sunday school lesson a couple of days late," Catherine said with a sly smile that Iris mirrored back with a dry chuckle.

"Iris, I thought you'd like to know that your conclusions about the cause of death for Winner were confirmed," Grissom told her and handed her the paperwork.

"I'll be," Iris said mildly as she glanced over the results.

"The colonel's pleased with the outcome of the investigation, Ecklie's scored some political points both with the mayor and governor, and you're getting positive reviews from the swing assistant supervisor," Grissom said while Iris handed him the papers back.

"We need to celebrate your first big case here," Nick said gravely while stroking his chin in thought.

"Nickers, I'm just doing my job and not looking to score favor," Iris chided him.

"Hey, we've done more as a team outside of work together in the short time you've been with us than in some time. I think Nick's got a good idea for us to get together again," Catherine concurred.

"Nicky, what'd you have in mind?" Grissom inquired.

"We should go to that new club called _Da Mix_. It'd be a blast," Nick proposed.

"_Da Mix_? Um, I'm really not into clubbing," Iris sounded doubtful.

"Hear me out, Iris, it's a new dance club where they play anything, different songs to dance to one after another: country, R&B, rock, some rap," Nick cajoled.

"You're saying everyone would want to go?" Iris still wasn't sure.

"Yeah, even Griss here will get out there and shake his booty," Nick laughed while Grissom rolled his eyes.

"I think I can even convince Brass to go since he worked the case with you," Catherine interjected.

"Okay, I'll tag along only if this is something the whole team including Jim wants to go do," Iris capitulated with reluctance.

"This outing may have to wait then," Grissom cautioned.

"Why?" asked Catherine and Nick in near unison.

"Jim's called in sick for the third day," Grissom replied but his face showed concern.

Iris was surprised but kept her face neutral.

"Yeah, that's right, bronchitis again?" Nick supposed.

"Crap, well, that explains why I haven't seen him around the lab. It's that cold of his! Blast his stubborn hide, I told him to get his behind to a doctor," Iris blurted suddenly and covered her mouth while her cheeks took on a faint flush.

"Why Iris, Brass'll be touched you care so," Catherine smirked before she seemed to recall something and her own face turned more serious.

"Where does Jim live?" Iris asked Grissom abruptly.

"Your need to know is what?" Grissom returned.

"I'd like to check on him. The rest of your team is on shift. He sounds like he'd be a challenging patient and you know I like a challenge," Iris replied with a hopeful look.

"Let me call him before you embark on such a notion," Grissom countered and pulled out his cell phone to hit speed dial. His conversation with Brass was quick. "Jim, Gil, sorry to hear you're under the weather. Iris is asking to come by and check on you. I see. I'll let her know. Get yourself better."

"What's the Brass man say?" Nick queried.

"He said hell will freeze over before he'll let Iris through the door but his language was a bit saltier. He sounds bad though. He's wheezing and his voice is so hoarse I could barely understand him," Grissom replied as his eyes narrowed thoughtfully at Iris.

"All the more reason I should go. Come on, Griss, address and the key you have to his house," Iris demanded softly with an outstretched hand.

"What makes you think I'd have a key?" Grissom protested.

"Because you're his best friend and he'd give you one, because you're concerned about how ill he is, because you know I'm the most qualified to help him, and because you can get Betty to give me the days off I need to cozen Jim back to health," Iris reasoned while holding up a finger for each because.

"Griss, she's right. The last time Brass was in hospital for the bronchitis he sometimes gets this time of year was close for how quick it went to pneumonia. He's healthy as a horse any other time except for this," Catherine interjected.

"Yeah, boss, my vote's with Catherine and Iris," Nick concurred.

"I have to agree with our consensus here as the evidence is overwhelming. Iris, Jim can be profoundly stubborn but I believe you're accustomed to dealing with such a personality trait. Here you go," Grissom said while he wrote out the address and gave it to Iris along with a key he removed from his key ring.

"Thanks, I'll let you know how things go. I'll make quick stops at home and then a CVS or Walgreens. Wish me well," Iris said and strode down the hall with a fast pace that belied her shorter stature.

"Why'd Iris be so tweaked up over Jim's being sick?" Catherine wondered.

"Got me," Grissom shrugged.

"I know why. Iris knew somebody back in Dallas who got pneumonia bad and kept refusing to go get checked out. By the time it put him in the hospital it was too late," Nick divulged sadly.

"Not another CSI?" Catherine gasped.

"No, it was a homicide detective she was friends with but nothing romantic mind you. The pneumonia was a strain resistant to antibiotics. If he'd gone sooner maybe the outcome would've been different according to the doctors, but Iris had begged him to go but he wouldn't. The guy died and his widow still works at the DPD in the crime lab. You can tell Iris has taken to us quick, including Brass, so that's her way. She always believes she can charge in and fix things up, even when she can't," Nick disclosed so they would understand Iris' reasons. "

"Wow," Catherine whispered, "I can see why it's important to her then."

"Let's hope Brass will let her in," Grissom said with the silent notion he meant in more ways than one.

X X X X X

Brass thought being shot by Willie Cutler wasn't so bad compared to how he now felt. His chest, back and sides were sore from the relentless coughing he'd endured. Rattling sounds every time he took a breath told him the junk in his lungs wasn't moving and efforts to get rid of it fruitless. He hadn't been able to take a shower in nearly five days, finding that trying to bathe with a washcloth was woefully inadequate. Jim was curled into a ball of utter misery in bed, glancing with disgust at the wad of bed linens on the floor. His attempt to get up and get to the toilet in time had been disastrous. He'd believed mind over matter but simply been unprepared for the disabling wave of fatigue and dizziness when he'd try to get up. Brass realized he was in a bad way, no shower in days and it only added to his distress.

The doorbell rang.

He tried to get up again but his head began to spin and he sank back with a despairing groan, swearing profusely as he did so.

A loud knocking followed the initial doorbell chiming.

"Go away," Brass tried to yell but only a harsh whisper came out.

To his astonishment, he heard the door open and he looked frantically at his night stand trying to remember where his service weapon was and then remembering it was in the top drawer of the nearby chest. It was out of reach and no help now if this was an intruder.

"Hello…hello…Jim?"

Brass couldn't believe it. She was here in spite of what he'd told Grissom. He was also mortified about his state of compromised personal hygiene which was rank to the extreme and that an uninvited female guest was now on the premises and within a few feet of discovering his condition of eau de pee yew.

Iris' nose told her there were problems as she let herself in. The place was probably spic and span at any other time at least that was what her impression would have been because Brass was a smart dresser. Its present state needed to be deemed a federal disaster area.

"Jim, it's Iris, I'm coming on in," she said loudly and heard what sounded like an attempt to speak but deep barking coughing instead.

"Bingo," she softly said to herself.

Jim's bedroom was just an extension of the disaster area. A wastebasket was overflowing with used Kleenex. Over-the-counter cough and cold medications crowded the night stand. Brass was wrapped up in a blanket but the bed had no other linens. She noted the pile of linen at the foot of the bed and a pungent odor denoting a certain body excretion.

"I guess hell didn't freeze over…I told you not to come here," Brass managed to get out a hostile croak.

"Arrest me," Iris told him bluntly. "First thing to do is I'm drawing you a warm bath so you can soak."

"Oh so this is how you wanted to see me in my naked glory?" Brass growled.

"I'm sure it's one of the unnamed natural wonders of the world," Iris retorted as he watched her go into the master bathroom. "Ah so, a garden tub, perfect!"

He heard the sound of running water into the tub and also a spicy smell that even his congested nose could decipher a few moments later before Iris returned.

"There's no way in hell I'm going in there," Jim protested between sniffles.

"Come on, upsy-daisy with you, lean on me. I know you feel like total crap but if you don't want to end up in the hospital, you have to trust me and do as I say," Iris said sharply and eased him up to a sitting position. He stood shakily and found he did need her support.

"So you gonna be my own dominatrix like Lady Heather that I have to obey?" he tried to now joke and then groaned as he sagged against her. He was surprised to find she could support his weight as they walked slowly to the bathroom.

"I don't know who that is but if it takes me using S&M tactics to make you behave, so be it but someday you'll have to give me details on this woman," Iris chuckled mirthlessly.

Jim let the blanket drop away as he cautiously slid into the tub, noting Iris kept eye contact with his upper half and not the lower. Was she being modest for his sake or her own? He grimaced slightly as the sudsy water crept up over him as he submerged up to his neck. Brass nearly swooned in ecstasy as he luxuriated in the tub and felt like an invisible crust of filth was melting away. "What's that smell?"

"It's ginger and has definite healing properties for the cold and flu. After you've soaked a while, I'll drain the tub and you'll take a shower. I trust you have a robe because I want you to get toasty warm so you start to sweat and then back to bed with you," Iris said in a no-nonsense way.

"Yes, ma'am, I do have a robe hanging on the closet door. You're not one of those tree huggers are you and stare into crystals and chant mantras? Gawd, you're bossy," Brass griped.

"Well, your way of going about this got you in the state you're in," Iris returned and then sighed. "Look, I'm here to help but if you just want to go the hospital I'll take you. For the record, I believe there's balance between natural and man-made medicine. I'm not a tree-hugger and I don't stare into crystals and chant."

"No hospital…I'll go along with whatever voodoo you got just get me better," Brass declared before a coughing episode ensued.

Iris looked at him sympathetically. "I'm stepping out a moment to make a call."

"To who? I don't want anyone knowing you're here because I don't want any rumors floating around" Brass literally felt like he was choking.

"Lean forward!" Iris commanded.

Brass complied and Iris thumped his upper back with curved palms like playing a drum.

"Hey, I ain't no bongos," Jim exclaimed before he felt the urge to cough. Iris then covered his mouth and nose with a wad of toilet paper.

"Go on, cough and get rid of that junk," Iris instructed as Brass did so. He was stunned at being to finally get rid of some the mucous crud. She looked clinically at what he'd expectorated and tossed it in the wastebasket.

"Isn't that kind of gross?" Jim rasped at her.

"I needed to see what the color was. Only Grissom, Catherine and Nick know I'm here but I also need to talk to Doc Robbins. I'll ask Grissom and Doc Al for discretion so that your reputation isn't tarnished," Iris said and walked out.

As Jim lay there soaking, he wondered what her motives were. She seemed to be there genuinely out of concern for his well-being but his mind had more questions than answers. He decided to tell his brain to shut up for a while, submerging up to his nose with a sigh of bliss.

Iris made two calls. The first was to Grissom who was laughing by the end of their conversation at the idea of Iris putting Jim in a tub but promising that no mention would be made of Brass' situation beyond he was home recuperating. The next call was to Doc Robbins who she outlined Brass' condition to and the request for prescriptions to be called in by him to the Walgreen's Iris had stopped at near Brass' home. She also found his screened-in patio and retrieved a plastic chair.

Brass was dozing in the tub when Iris returned and Iris smiled to herself. His face was relaxed with a faint smile and looked very childlike at that moment. Iris hated having to wake him while she knelt by the tub and jostled his shoulder gently. "Jim, come on, time to shower."

"Babe, take it with me, you know you want to and what clean fun we'll have," he suggestively murmured half asleep and then his eyes flew open in shock. Iris was resting her chin on her hands at the tub edge with a half-smile and there was a sparkle in those brown eyes that surveyed him.

"I have to say that's the best offer I've had all day," she said with an amused chuckle.

"Uh…Iris…I didn't mean that…," Brass stammered in alarm.

"Oh who knows perhaps you will as get to know me better and thanks for calling me Iris at long last," Iris batted her eyelashes at him. "Who knew it'd take having to have you buck naked in a tub to do so."

Brass knew she was having fun with him and found her quirky sense of humor a nice facet to her personality that relaxed the moment of tension.

"I'd reach down to pull the drain plug but knowing my luck I'd get a hold of something I shouldn't," Iris said drily and Jim's efforts not to laugh failed as his sides protested bitterly.

"Oh Lord, my sides are killing me," Jim gasped between weak laughs before he reached into the water to disengage the drain.

Iris helped him stand with a towel, again keeping her eyes on his. He now appreciated the respect she was treating him with. When the tub was drained, Iris put the patio chair in it and had Brass sit down.

"Why do I have to sit in a chair?" he asked suspiciously.

"The chair's got slits in the seat and will make a perfect shower chair. You're too weak right now to stand up safely during the shower and I don't feel like taking one with you should you start to slip and pull me in there too," Iris stated with hands on hips.

"Okay, I give, you're right," Brass raised his hands in surrender, making his towel slide off inadvertently, giving Iris an eyeful she hadn't bargained for. She averted her eyes quickly, silently hoping Jim hadn't seen her accidental perusal of his distinct male anatomy.

"Sorry about that, Iris, but I knew you wouldn't peek," Jim snickered hoarsely. "I wear a sleeveless T-shirt and boxers to bed if you get me those too."

"Again your virtue is safe with me but rest assured you're a hale and hearty representative of the male gender," Iris said candidly, breathing a quiet thanks to heaven he indeed hadn't seen that she'd seen, while she gave him the hand held shower head. She turned on the water to a warm setting and stepped back from the shower curtain.

"Well, it's nice to hear an appreciative word from the other side of the fence," Jim said spluttering as the water splashed his face.

While he showered, Iris found the linen closet in the hallway and took out fresh sheets, pillowcases and two quilts. She remade the bed and took the soiled linens to put in the washer and start a load. Returning to his bedroom, she located the underwear drawers to get out a T-shirt and boxers.

After the shower when Jim was dried off, Iris helped him out of the tub and gave him the underwear to change into. She then wrapped him in the flannel robe and walked him back to bed with slow steps. He laid down still in the robe as Iris now retrieved a thick pair of white athletic socks.

"What're the socks for? I don't wear socks in bed," he said with a dismissive wave.

"For now you do, mister, because I'm putting Vicks Vaporub on your footsies. It's a home remedy that works. You'll be able to get some rest without coughing while I go to get your medicines from Walgreens," Iris explained and proceeded to put the pungent-smelling salve on his feet and then put the socks on.

"You're leaving?" Brass asked, sounding a bit plaintive to Iris.

"Doc Robbins called you in some prescriptions that I need to go get. I won't be gone long. Heck, you won't miss me in the least. I'll be back before you know it," she patted his shoulder and left.

A short time after she'd left, Brass felt on the verge of euphoria wrapped in the flannel robe and under the quilts. It was a warm feeling he languished in and to his amazement he wasn't coughing! For the first time in days, he was able to take a series of breaths without the ensuing spasmodic, barking coughs. Guess Iris knew what she was doing, Brass mused, drowsiness setting in and the heaviness pulling his eyelids together couldn't be resisted.

Iris got back to his house as soon as possible, still irked by the fact the pharmacist had to reconfirm a prescription with Doc Robbins. Before she went to the bedroom, she went to the kitchen and nuked a microwave chicken noodle soup with veggies. She then went to the bedroom and heard a deep even snoring. Iris had to smile again at how relaxed he looked asleep, a little boy quality she wondered if he knew he had, or for that matter how many women had seen his face in that state? Catherine had told her before that Brass had been quite the player when he first came to the Vegas PD and rarely lacked for female company. The bed was a king size (one thing she had in common with him at least) but it had probably seen plenty of battle action, visualizing notches in the bedposts. She cleared her head of that line of thinking as she tried to rouse him.

"Jim, wake up," she said sitting on the bed by him.

"Oh, hiya, Iris," Jim's eyes finally opened along with a profound yawn.

She fluffed the pillows behind him as he raised himself up to a sitting position. Iris then produced a series of prescription bottles and a steaming mug of the soup with some crackers and a large pitcher of water. He seemed to look disappointed about something.

Iris found herself peeved at that moment and fumed, "What'd you expect? Me to stand here scantily clad and feed you grapes?"

"That could be a good start," Brass wisecracked back, Iris unable to tell if he was hopeful or not.

"I doubt I'm your type," Iris said testily.

"You don't have a clue what my type might be," Brass shrugged before starting on the soup.

"Let me hazard a guess. I think an ideal candidate would be around the height of 5'7" to 5'9" with long shapely legs, a killer figure and appropriately pouting pectoral appendages, a face framed in long gorgeous hair that haunts your most erotic dreams, luscious ruby-red lips, should I go on?" Iris remarked.

"Damn, you're close, what gave me away?" Jim asked, incredulous.

"A week ago you and I were at the lab walking down the hallway when a very attractive female officer meeting that physical description walked by and you looked ready to swallow your tie. She didn't see you but I could tell your eyes had her in the buff and ready to ride 'em cowgirl with you. You had this sly look of the fox knowing it can have its pick of any hen in the chicken coop," Iris nudged him with a knowing look as he searched his memory.

"Officer Triana Masters. She's known around the force as a masterpiece for reasons I won't go into but I can say it's appropriate she works Vice. Yeah, she's pretty hot and knows it. I have eyes, you know, but these days most of the hens would just tell this ol' fox to cluck off," he recalled with a raspy laugh.

"I don't see you as being ready to be put out to pasture because you're just between ladies right now, that's all," Iris said encouragingly before reaching into the Walgreen's bags. "Okay, this is an antibiotic for you to take followed by this cough syrup with codeine. It'll make you feel snoozy so you can rest. I'll also need to monitor your temperature."

"Uh, wait a minute, just how would you check it?" Brass queried.

"Hmm, I can offer the following choices – orally, temporally, or the backside approach. Your call, sir," Iris smirked with a devilish chuckle.

"Not the third, uh-uh, no way Jose, not even if you promised me dinner first!" Jim declared.

"I got the temporal thermometer since we aren't on that intimate a level," Iris reassured him. "You've got your cell phone so call me if you need me sooner but I'll come back in the morning to check on you if that's okay."

"Not many schmoes in this town tonight get to say they have their own nurse," Brass noted. "Yeah, I want you to come back, Iris. You're right my way wasn't working and today was crappy until you got here. I figure I can only get over this with your help."

She held the temporal thermometer briefly near his forehead and got the initial reading.

"Well, do I pass?" Brass asked.

"You've got a fever of nearly 102 degrees, not dangerously high but enough to make you feel crummy," Iris told him.

"So that makes me a hottie?" Jim wondered.

"I'll update your Facebook page to that effect," Iris shot back.

X X X X X

Monday was the next morning as Grissom's phone rang and its tone was for Iris' number. Catherine, who had brought a lab result for him to review on one of the graveyard shift's cases, was seated across from him. "It's Iris, guessed she survived last night. Good morning, Florence Nightingale."

"Morning, boss, thought I'd let you know how things went," Iris chortled at the nursing reference. She gave him a brief outline before she pulled into the driveway of Brass' home and closed the call.

"Did Brass behave?" Catherine asked.

"Iris took no prisoners if that's what you mean. She said he was in rough shape when she got there but by the time she was leaving he was breathing better and able to rest," Grissom relayed.

"I think Jim'll have his hands full if he doesn't follow nurse's orders," Catherine laughed, "but then again he could do with having a woman in the house for a while."

"What do you mean?" Grissom cocked his head with the look Iris had dubbed "Grissomish" and privately told the team of.

"Well, he hasn't been seeing anybody for quite a while, not even casually, so I see Iris' being there right now as good not bad. Plus he could do with getting to know her better," Catherine clarified.

"She's not what I'd call the sort Jim has at the top of his list if you're thinking there's any chance of…well…you know," Grissom proposed.

"That's the beauty of it. Jim gets some well-deserved female attention without it getting messy. Look the lab results over and let me know," Catherine grinned before she left Grissom to ponder them over. However, Grissom's mind was filled with wondering how it would go between Iris and Brass.

X X X X X

Jim had finally had a nearly decent night's sleep. His sides were sore but improved and he was able to draw a breath with less wheezing. He heard the latch of the front door open as Iris called out, "Hey, I hope you're decent 'cause I'm coming in."

She found him looking more comfortable and while he watched the news. Jim's voice was raspy as he said, "So you can take my guff, huh?"

"I've dealt with worse," she replied. "You look much improved because you didn't call me. Would you like some breakfast?"

"Yeah, that'd be great! I actually have some appetite this morning," Jim said with a look of anticipation.

"I took the liberty of stopping at the store to pick up some things. My plan is to stick around long enough to get you fed and keep things tidy and then leave. I don't know many days I've got to get you back in the saddle so I have to make the most of it. How do you want this to go?" Iris queried.

"So I get your additional services of cleaning up around here? Jeez, it'll be just short of having a wife again," Jim pondered as Iris nodded affirmatively. "I like the terms of our arrangement."

"Do you want to give me a verbal lay of the land?" Iris asked.

"Naw, I think I can get up with your help and show you around. Can I take a shower first 'cause that Vaporub's got to go?" Brass insisted.

"Sure, I'd prefer you to use the chair in the tub until you've got your strength back," Iris requested while she checked his temperature.

"Yes, ma'am. You know, Iris, you make me feel like I'm in third grade and need to ask the teacher's permission to go to the can," Brass griped.

"This is your home and I don't want you to feel like that. I'm here as a friend to help a friend. By the way, your temperature's down to 101.4 degrees," Iris replied contritely.

"Well, you put up with me being a crabby SOB last night so you're alright in my book," Jim amended and started to get up slowly while Iris supported his left side. His cough persisted but the congestion seemed to have lessened.

"Thanks, my captain, I take that as your vote of confidence. While you shower I'll whip up some breakfast and try not to present a burnt offering," Iris laughed.

"Whip…Lady Heather…if you only knew," Jim's own laugh was still raspy.

"I actually do know because I called Griss about her. He was a fount of information. I would've loved to see your interview with Renee," Iris said casually.

"Gil told you about that? That son of a…," Jim railed and his footing became unsteady.

"Settle down, big fella! All is well. Griss said it was to be kept confidential between him, you and me. I'll take it to the grave," Iris pledged with an upraised hand before it went back around Jim's waist.

"Maybe but you women tend to have loose lips. I can't believe Gil would tell you that," Jim retorted doubtfully.

"It's because you consider me still something of a stranger?" Iris asked softly as Jim got into the tub.

"Not a stranger but you're still new and for Gil to make that known just surprises me," Jim returned bluntly.

"Point taken, my captain, people will just tell me things I guess because they feel comfortable sharing it with me," Iris said candidly. "Perhaps we'll get to know each other well enough you'll feel that way too someday."

With Jim safely seated and his shower in progress, Iris went to the kitchen and figured out what was where after putting up the groceries. She'd also brought a jam box that she put in the living room to listen to CD's while she cooked but kept the volume low enough so she could hear Jim.

"Iris!" she heard him call.

She went to the bathroom and found he'd made it safely to sit on the toilet on his own. For a moment she wanted to cluck her tongue in disapproval but held off knowing he needed to feel independent in spite of his situation. He was wrapped up securely in his towel, no accidental exposure would occur this time.

"Need fresh unders?" she inquired.

"Yeah but also some gym shorts so I can show you around," Jim replied before coughing hard into the Kleenex he'd grabbed.

Iris left him so he could dress in private and returned to help him walk. "Let me take you to bed."

Brass was caught off guard. "What was that?"

Iris flushed a brilliant pink. "Um, sorry, I meant walk you over to the bed so I can give you a round of PDT."

"What the hell is PDT – a time zone or something sexy?" Jim asked dubiously.

"Oh, heavens, it's not a sex term," Iris now laughed and showed him a machine with tubing and a face mask. "It means postural drainage therapy. You'll take an aerosolized breathing treatment via this nebulizer and then I'll follow it with the PDT. It'll help you to get rid of the mess in your lungs. We need to this three times a day per Doc as he prescribed."

"That witch doctor's got to love this. He's always ribbed me about the fact I don't like morgues and won't touch a body," Brass opined between coughs.

"Okay, sit here and hold this mask over your mouth and nose to breathe the mist in," Iris instructed while she prepared the measured amount of medication to place in the nebulizer compartment.

Brass complied and put the mask on when she said to and began inhaling as deeply as he could but not incite a round of coughing. Iris left him briefly to get breakfast ready to serve up. When she came back the nebulizer was nearly empty and she turned it off.

"Okay, I'll be using gentle thumping motions on your back and chest in a few positions followed by an interval for you to cough to get rid of what you can," Iris outlined what she would do.

The next several minutes went just that way and at the conclusion he found he was better able to bring up that crap so deep in his lungs. Iris left him to finish preparing the food in the kitchen as she listened to his efforts before she returned.

"Ready for breakfast?" Iris asked as she helped him stand up from the bed.

"Yeah, I feel like I went 15 rounds with Ali. One reason I moved to Vegas in the early nineties was thinking the drier climate would do me good. I don't get this bronchitis as often as I did back in Jersey," Brass panted slightly from the coughing and breathing exercises Iris had had him follow after the PDT.

"Tell you what I can give you a back massage before you go back to bed later after breakfast, it'll help you relax and rest better," Iris reasoned.

"Massage and PDT you learned to do where?" Brass didn't want to seem nosy but wanted more information.

"I told you I'd become a nurse to help with my grandmother at home, but I also worked in geriatric care facilities," Iris said.

"Nursing homes," Jim grunted with a sour look.

"Yes, anyway, extra things like respiratory therapy or physical therapy weren't covered very well by my grandmother's health insurance. I had friends in both professions who showed me the basics, and I took some later classes in massage therapy which helped pay for nursing school," Iris disclosed with a shrug.

Once they were seated in Jim's dining room, Iris uncovered the plates of food: English muffins dusted with cinnamon sugar, ham-and-cheese omelets and hash browns. Brass' felt his mouth start to water as his appetite kicked in. "Iris, this looks good."

"Dig in," she ordered and Jim wasted no time.

She cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher with Jim insisting to help. He stayed right beside her to lean on her as needed for support. He led her through the layout of his home. "There's not much to the place, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, utility area, garage and the backyard."

"Oh my, Jim, this is an oasis," Iris said, impressed, upon seeing what comprised the backyard.

"Yeah, my personal Shangri La to get away when work's a grind. I swim in the pool to keep in shape. Over there's the koi pond and the fish might go cannibal if I can't get them fed today. I had the landscaping done with plants and trees that are already native or would do well in this climate. The trees surrounding the fence are tall enough to give me privacy," Jim said matter-of-factly. "I need to mow the lawn bad!"

"Jim, I'll take care of the fish and get the lawn mowed by the guy who's going to take care of mine," Iris said to be practical.

"You've done enough, Iris," Jim protested but then swayed slightly as his energy faded.

"I don't give to get, Jim," Iris admonished and steered him into the house.

After Brass was lying down and comfortable, Iris made a quick call to set up the lawn getting mowed and headed out to the koi pond. Jim had given her instructions on what the koi pond needs could be and that he hand-fed the fish. She was prepared to do filter cleaning and check water quality as well as feed the fish.

Jim had fallen asleep and Iris had let him nap during the time she worked on the koi pond. Bringing in vegetable beef soup and a grilled cheese sandwich on a lap table and a cup of hot herbal tea, she woke him up. "Lunch, sir," she announced and seated herself at the foot of the bed.

Brass yawned widely and looked at the food, feeling genuinely hungry. "This smells good! How'd the koi pond go?"

"Fine except one big calico koi is a quite nipper compared to the gentle nibbles of the other ones when they're fed, "Iris complained, looking at her fingertips.

"Oh that's one's Jaws," Brass laughed and then looked at her thoughtfully.

"Proper name, I think I've still got all my fingers," Iris said and counted off her fingers, missing his appraising stare.

"Iris, would you call yourself a nibbler or a nipper?" he asked suggestively.

"You'll have to find that out for yourself because it depends on the situation and the body part involved," Iris retorted while a rosy blush colored her cheeks.

"I'll warn you now that I've been known to skinny dip in the pool at night, so that's why I've got the tall trees around the perimeter of the yard, just in case you get an eyeful," he said slyly.

"Well, I'll just have to find some way to keep myself from taking advantage of such a spectacular view as that," Iris said with a straight face but rolling eyes.

She was spunky, he told himself, thinking the following days could be interesting indeed as they got to know each other further. He bit into the sandwich and was surprised to taste bacon. The sandwich was the first to go since eating one thing at a time was his habit before moving on to the soup. Jim glanced at the tea. "Do I have to? Tea's not my favorite drink."

"Humor me. It's got honey, lemon, ginger, Echinacea and cinnamon in it. I know your beverages of choice from your mini-bar area. The tea's also got a shot of whiskey in it for your throat," Iris urged.

"Down the hatch," Brass shrugged and drained the cup. "Hey, that's not half bad and the food sure hit the spot."

"Well, I'll let you rest while I go home for a while. I'm still putting the place together. I'll come back to check on you later and make you dinner if you think you're getting your appetite back," Iris said, removing the lap table.

"Yeah, that'd be nice. I think I could eat a regular dinner," Jim said with anticipation.

"What would you like to have? Name it and I'll do my best to make it," Iris grinned.

"Surprise me," Jim said smugly.

"It's a date then," Iris nodded while Jim suddenly looked alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"You said it's a date," he replied, frowning.

"Sheesh, Jim Brass, it's only an expression so relax," Iris chided. "I'll be back before six o'clock."

Jim thought after she'd left he could get up just fine and do for himself but simply going to the bathroom to take care of business wore him out. Even though he felt much better in less than 24 hours, he had to reluctantly admit to himself he couldn't overdo it. With a yawn, he turned over on his side and only wanted to take a brief nap. He was in the midst of a greatly intimate dream involving Triana when a different voice called to him right when she should've been calling out his.

"Hiya, sleepy head!"

Brass' eyes opened to see Iris walking past him to the bathroom and then hearing the tub filling up. He also smelled the now-familiar ginger. "What time is it?"

"Just before six when I said I'd be back," Iris said and checked his temperature with the temporal instrument.

"Geez, I must've been more tired than I thought. I just wanted to take a nap," Jim complained.

"Rest is what you need most so do what your body tells you, it's plain common sense," Iris said.

"I was dreaming of doing just that," Brass said wryly.

"Resting?" Iris inquired.

"No, doing what my body was telling me to do," he smirked.

"Ah, who was the lucky recipient of your amorous attention?" Iris pondered, tapping a forefinger on her chin in thought.

"Having the time of her life I can tell you that," Brass said emphatically.

"Sounds like it was just sex and not making love," Iris countered. "Come on, into the tub with you."

"Are you getting moral on me?" Jim asked testily as she helped walk him to the tub.

"No, I'm just saying there's a difference between the two," Iris clarified. "You think you're having a physical connection with sex and can leave out the spiritual connection of mind and soul that also takes place."

"Think that takes place with rape?" Brass returned.

"Never! We both know that's a violent act using sex as its vehicle," Iris said as he eased himself into the tub. "I meant that to me making love far outweighs the short-term gratification of sex for the moment."

"Oh, so we have a romantic in our midst," Jim said sardonically, letting the bubbles and water come up to his chin.

"On a different note, tonight's dinner is taking you home to Newark: Boston clam chowder soup with sautéed shrimp salad, sweet pecan breaded tilapia, corn bread, clam cakes and lemon cream pie," Iris changed the subject abruptly.

"How long will it take?" Brass let the other topic of their discussion go.

"About an hour while I help you get your shower done," Iris said breezily.

"Sure you don't want to join me?" Brass cocked a suggestive eyebrow at her.

"It takes all my strength I assure you to resist your hirsute-blessed chest and other manly charms," she huffed tartly and turned on heel to leave him.

He did like getting her flustered he allowed and soaked the next fifteen minutes away, trying to rekindle his Triana fantasy.

"Oh that man excels at finding ways to get under my skin," Iris grumbled to herself as she marched into kitchen and got the first phase of dinner underway, unpacking the groceries she hadn't told him she'd brought.

She returned to help Jim set up his shower and again to walk with him back to his bed. He was insisting on walking under his own power and Iris stayed beside him only in the event his gait became unsteady. Jim gave himself his own breathing treatment but still needed Iris for the PDT that followed.

X X X X X

Nick knew he was unannounced as he knocked at Brass' door but he'd been surprised to see Iris' Excursion in the driveway behind Jim's Charger. The door opened and Iris clad in an apron greeted him, "Nickers! What brings you by?"

"I wanted to see how Jim was getting by but looks like he's managing," Nick said with a wide grin. "You got flour on your cheek but what smells so good?"

"Oh, bother, thanks, come in please," Iris wiped at her cheek with a corner of the apron. "Dinner's nearly ready if you want to stay."

Nick followed her into the kitchen where Jim was already sitting in the breakfast nook. "Hey, Jim, how're you feeling?"

"Coming along with the Nancy Nurse/Suzy Homemaker combo here," Jim said with a jerk of his thumb at Iris.

"He's exaggerating," Iris rolled her eyes at Brass.

"You guys bicker like an old married couple," Nick chuckled.

"He wishes," Iris sniffed dismissively as she plated the food.

"No, she wishes and'll never know what she's missing," Brass said in a snarky tone.

"Jim, you have to be feeling better. You got your piss-n-vinegar attitude going full throttle," Nick now laughed.

"Both of you shut up and eat," Iris ordered as she brought plates of food with their sides.

"Praise the Lord and pass the plate," Nick said with spoon poised to go into the Boston clam chowder.

"Some grace, Stokes," Brass grunted before he also started on the same.

Iris raised her eyes heavenward a moment before she took a tentative taste of the chowder. "I'd appreciate your, pardon the pun, feedback later on all of this. I've never made the chowder or the shrimp salad or the tilapia before."

Later, the last of the lemon pie having found a home with Nick, Iris was clearing the table while the men stacked dishes. Jim had insisted on helping to walk them over when his energy flagged and he'd nearly dropped the plates he was carrying. Nick got them before that happened, Brass having to sit down with a weary sigh.

"I'm worthless right now," Jim growled in frustration.

"Nonsense, you're making progress, getting rid of the junk in your lungs, taking your own bath and shower, doing your breathing treatment. Your energy will come back more each day," Iris encouraged.

"Jim, you'll be back before you know it eating grub like this," Nick said as he ate the last bite of lemon pie.

"I'll have to be going to the gym daily to work off the belly I'll get. Iris, I have to say the Boston clam chowder's close to how my mother makes it," Jim said. "It was all good."

"Thanks, you guys didn't leave any leftovers," Iris noted, mentally tucking Jim's compliment away. When he gave them, they were honest and not superficial flattery.

"So Jim's the reason you're off swing shift," Nick observed soto voce, bringing Iris the last of the dishes to soak in the sink. Jim had gone into the living room to sit in his favorite recliner.

"Yes and your silence on that's appreciated. I'm only off long enough to make sure he's over the worst of it. He's on the borderline for having pneumonia," Iris said with a worried glance toward the living room. Jim's cough was back but not as barky.

"Is your willingness to help Brass like this trying to make up for Mac?" Nick asked, keeping his voice low.

"Mac was stubborn like Jim. He wouldn't listen to Melanie or me," Iris recalled. "I know I'm not responsible for his death but at times the "what ifs" creep in."

"You introduced Melanie to Bud later on so I'd say the slate's clean. Jeri texted me about the baby and I agree with her that you're due to be somebody's baby," Nick said and hugged her.

"We're wet but thanks for the hug!" Iris protested.

"You can change the subject but not what I said," Nick said and headed for the living room.

The dishwasher was in action when Iris joined the men in the living room. Brass and Nick were having a discussion about the case Nick and Catherine were working on. Nick's phone gave its tone for when he had a message. He pulled the phone out and glanced at its screen content. "Well, I'm going in early to shift, Hodges texted me he's got some more results. Iris, if you're cooking anymore and have leftovers, I've got dibs on them!"

"Nope, my house, my leftovers," Jim said flatly.

"Come on, I broke bread with you," Nick said with a wounded look.

"My, my, the ultimate compliment I could have on my cooking efforts you've both just given me," Iris teased.

"Huh?" Brass said.

"Two gentleman arguing over possession of my leftovers," Iris replied with a flirty batting of eyes.

"Remember that's the leftovers and not you," Jim taunted before a series of coughs.

"Yeah, he's better, Iris, snarkier than ever," Nick allowed as Iris went with him to the door. "You've got your hands full."

"I'll manage Master Brass," Iris said smoothly.

"Good luck, I think you'll need it," Nick said with a surprise peck on her cheek before he strode toward his Avalanche.

X X X X X

Brass was finished with his PDT session after the breathing treatment and always felt best right afterwards. Iris was in the process of giving him the back and chest massage which was lessening the muscle soreness the coughing spells exacerbated. Her treatment plan was working he reluctantly admitted. She was taking all the guff he could give her in stride along with her verbal comebacks to when he deliberately tried his best to stir her up. He wasn't tired enough to sleep yet or have Vick's put on his feet with socks.

"Hey, do you think you can provide a happy ending with these massages?" Brass wisecracked.

"Um, you're on your own for that or maybe Triana can oblige you," Iris said drolly.

"What makes you say that?" he asked sharply.

"I just get the distinct impression there's chemistry between you," Iris said cryptically.

"Whatever," he muttered.

"Your energy seems better tonight," Iris observed, returning from the bathroom after washing the massage oil from her hands, to redirect their conversation.

"Jump in here with me and lets test that theory," Jim said rakishly with a cocked eyebrow.

"What if I did?" Iris challenged softly.

"As long as it's consensual," Jim shot back.

"You're impossible at times," Iris exclaimed in exasperation and stalked out of the room, hearing his raspy laughter behind her only compounded her frustration.

"Hey, wait," Jim called after her but she didn't acknowledge him.

Iris retreated to the kitchen and put a pot of water on to boil. A cup of Earl Grey tea is what she craved and some quiet time to enjoy it by. Brass padded up quietly behind her, her focus on the stove such that she didn't hear him.

"Iris?"

She spun on her heel in fright with a sound between a squeal and a hiccup. The sudden shift in balance caused her to stumble and Jim caught her and her face was pressed against his chest in an awkward embrace. Her face tilted up at him with doe eyes wide in surprise while she stammered. "I'm sorry, you startled me."

Several moments passed as neither moved while still holding one another. Brass finally cleared his throat as he moved back, "I can be a jerk sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Iris considered with a slight smile. "I was trying to be a smart aleck too."

"You're making something else?" Jim asked with a nod at the stove.

"Boiling some water for your herbal tea and me some Earl Grey," Iris replied, pulling the pot off the burner when the water started to roil.

"I'll get the Jack Daniels' for you to put in," Brass turned to go and then added, "only for medicinal purposes."

"Right, you've got a lot of ailments then for the variety of so-called medicinal preparations out there in your mini-bar," Iris countered.

"Actually, Iris, I've had that problem in the past," Brass divulged, returning with a shot glass of dark amber liquid.

"Heavens, Jim, did you have to go to AA or something like that?" Iris asked in surprise.

"Not quite. I got it worked out over time. You don't have to worry about my sobriety even though I've got the stuff here. I've proved to myself I can drink in moderation and I haven't tied one on in quite a while," Jim informed her.

"Catherine said you keep some intestinal fortitude at work," Iris said.

"Yeah, that's true but it's never on duty and I'm by the book on that," Brass admitted with candor.

"I admire your gaining control of it. My dad was a functional alcoholic for some years before he was finally able to get his life back on track. He calls it the devil's dance because each day the devil doesn't win he does," Iris disclosed.

"Is he still around?" Jim queried.

"He's a semi-retired dentist in New York City now. He specializes in sports dentistry and his clientele are major sports figures, college or high school players," Iris replied, deftly preparing the two tea mugs.

"Let's head to the living room," Jim recommended.

"Okay, man of the house," Iris agreed, Brass finding he liked the sound of that for some odd reason.

Jim got settled into his recliner and leaned back to enjoy his tea with its large shot of whiskey. "I'll sleep good tonight."

Iris spied his book case. "Could I look over your books?"

"Knock yourself out," Jim said between deep sips of the tea.

"Ah, you and I both like historical biographies, Reader's Digest condensed books and sports too," Iris told him as her fingers ran over the titles of the books.

"You might be surprised to hear I have a college degree in history I got after coming back from Vietnam," Jim mentioned.

"No, I'm not surprised to hear that and I find that an interesting facet to add to your dynamic make-up," Iris remarked with an appraising stare she tried to cleverly veil while leafing through a book she'd pulled out.

"Are you feeding me a line?" Brass grunted.

"No, I say that with patent sincerity," Iris said with an emphatic head shake.

"You have a quirky way of stringing words together," Jim noted with a faint chuckle.

"One is glad to be of service and the source of your amusement," Iris said before she found an item in one of the lower bookshelves. "Jim, do you play?"

"Play what?" he asked.

Iris returned carrying a chess set that she placed on the coffee table by the recliner and couch.

"Yeah, Gil comes over once in a while," Brass disclosed, "do you?"

"Yes but it looks like you had a game in progress with him but maybe we could engage in one some time," Iris observed and Jim heard a hopeful tone.

"That game started a couple of months ago. He comes by if he's got a difficult case going. We usually finish the game at some point but didn't this time. Yeah, I'll take you on in a game but what are the stakes?" Jim challenged.

"You can name them, sir, and I never welsh," Iris returned before she finished her tea.

"Not tonight though I'm fading fast," Jim said with a wide yawn and drained his own tea mug.

"I look forward to it. Do you need help getting to bed? I recommend using the Vick's a few more nights and I'll do a round of PDT on you after your breathing treatment," Iris inquired as he got up from the recliner.

"No, I'm good. When will you be back?" Jim replied taking her mug and going to the kitchen.

"I'd like to come back in the morning and see how you're doing. I can then make us breakfast while you do your ginger bath and then shower. I'd come back later to prepare lunch and do the same early in the evening to fix dinner," Iris proposed.

"How much is this all going to cost me?" Brass asked in jest.

"Oh, I'll just reap what I sow," Iris said with a wink.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Tuesday for Jim went as Iris had outlined. He'd slept even better than the night before and his strength was improving but he still took care not to overdo it. Brass was astonished he found himself looking forward to having her come over. She could be heard singing to the CD's she'd brought as she worked in the kitchen or did other light house work. He was getting exposure to the music she liked and it ranged from the sixties to the nineties mostly, finding many tunes in common to his own tastes. She was now back to work on dinner and he heard the thudding beat of Donna Summer's "Hot Stuff."

Brass thought the song appropriate for kitchen activities and could smell great aromas that gave the house a homey atmosphere. He decided he wanted to see Iris in action so made his way to the kitchen. He started to walk in when what he saw caused him to stop and back up slightly. Jim's view was unobstructed but he in turn couldn't be seen and that's how he wanted it for the moment.

Iris was in a groove zone as she was in her own private disco. She was swaying with her back to Brass at the stove as she checked pots and pans, then opened the oven door briefly. She turned and sang "hot, hot, hot ssstttuufff" in unison with Donna while she danced provocatively and, Brass had to admit, kind of sexily about his kitchen. Dang, all she needed was a pole, he thought, eating would never be boring at her place!

The song ended as Iris did a shimmy with her dish towel and then she heard clapping with a faint wolf whistle. The towel fell from her hands as her face assumed a brilliant hue of rosy pink. She turned away utterly embarrassed as Jim suddenly corralled her between the sink and stove.

"Hey, what gives? Are you PO'd?" Jim asked anxiously.

"No, I'm just flustered you saw me being foolish," Iris admitted with lowered eyes, feeling disconcerted.

"Heh, people on the strip are paying big bucks tonight to eat and see a show. I get quality entertainment and a meal fit for a king, pun intended, and don't have to leave my house," Jim chuckled huskily.

"Ah, well, as I've said one is glad to be service," Iris smiled wanly.

"So what's on for tonight?" Jim asked, pointing at the stove.

"My usual lovin' in the oven," Iris replied, "tonight you'll be sampling my triple shot meat loaf with blue cheese and mushroom, green bean salad, sesame glazed carrots, strawberry shortcake."

"Lovin' in the oven…triple shot meat loaf?" Brass cocked a brow at her.

"I like the Food Channel on cable and one of my favorite shows is called "Down Home With the Neely's" and it's a phrase of theirs that I adopted," Iris shrugged. "The meat loaf is made of ground beef, veal and ground pork."

"When does the lovin' commence?" Jim joked.

"Haha, if you can be patient within fifteen minutes," Iris said and rolled her eyes.

"I'll get the KY Intense Arousal Gel prepped," Jim wisecracked and Iris' response was to snap the kitchen towel at him as he beat a hasty retreat.

Later after a dinner that he'd asked for seconds on everything for and the dishwasher was humming away in the background, Jim and Iris were engaged in a different battle over the chessboard. They each proved to be deep thinkers as they pondered their respective moves in trying to guess the other's strategy.

Iris was reaching for the black knight she'd secretly nicknamed Brass when she saw his piercing gaze. "So you've been on any hot dates since you got here?"

"Uh, well, my love life as such is nil," Iris replied and finished her move, now threatening one of Jim's bishops.

"I know you said your marriage was crappy but how come you never tried again?" Brass inquired, taking his bishop safely out of danger in a diagnonal direction.

"When I decided to become a CSI after David's murder, I committed myself to that goal fully. Time I probably could've devoted to marrying again and trying to start a family but that didn't materialize. I promised myself I wouldn't settle again," she said while her rook boldly went toward Brass' queen.

"What made your marriage crappy? Take a break, your rook's not going anywhere and I could take some of your special tea," Brass stood up and jerked his thumb toward the kitchen.

"Why do you want to know?" Iris stopped him by placing a hand on his chest.

"I listen to people's stories, Iris, part of the territory as a detective. It helps me know a little more about you, come on," Jim encouraged.

"Okay, once upon a time," Iris began.

Over their mugs of tea, Jim listened intently as Iris gave a rundown of how she'd been friends with David since high school. She'd never dated anyone, the proverbial girl friend but never a girlfriend, even having gone by herself to a high school prom so she could say she'd gone. David had graduated from college with an engineering degree and announced he was moving to Dallas. He then asked Iris to marry him, his parents pressuring him to do so for the hopes of grandchildren. David had told her that he couldn't think of anyone else who could "serve in a better capacity" than his dear friend Iris. Confessing she was foolish to think that things would be different after their justice of the peace ceremony, she'd gone to Dallas three months later after David started working for Texas Instruments and had rented their first apartment.

"David and I never shared a bed, never had intimate moments aside from faux public displays of passionless kisses and hugs or holding hands, and then I found something disturbing in a VCR two years into the marriage," Iris said, refilling their mugs, with Jim adding an extra shot of JD.

"David was with another woman?" Brass guessed, taking one shot of JD straight this time.

"Very perceptive, Jim, actually it was a porn tape, so I now could understand part of what his hobby was," Iris said with a sad smile. "It turned out he had quite an extensive library of video smut in the closets and attic of what I thought was our home. I'm not a prude but now I had to struggle with a loveless, sexless marriage with a person who didn't want to be my partner in any way, shape or form."

"What'd you do? You stuck it out for 10 years," Jim said shaking his head.

"I tried to make it work on other levels. I took some beginner cooking classes to make great meals at home, bought items from the Victoria's Secret catalogue, exercised and dieted like a madwoman, kept the house spic-and-span clean. Nothing worked. I'd find phone numbers in his trouser pockets, phone calls I answered would hang up, and then he started to bring his women home with other men he worked with so he could get promotions at TI. I was to prepare a fantastic dinner and then fade into the background and remain invisible unless he needed something," Iris tried to say lightly but Jim could hear a bitter note.

"Why didn't you just divorce the prick? You sure had the grounds to do so," Jim declared.

"I was trying to honor the vows I'd made that were just empty words to him. His parents asked discrete questions about grandchildren and his answer was I was on infertility treatments. We were just legal roommates and I did finally have enough with his multiple infidelities and was looking into filing for divorce in 1994. His visit to his usual convenience store to get a lottery ticket on the same night each week because he was superstitious about such things changed everything…for him and for me," Iris spoke softly.

"Like me, you had to get out of Dodge and start fresh," Jim said and hid a yawn behind his hand.

"Lord knows I'm a sap for romantic stuff like "An Affair to Remember" and the ending of "Sleepless in Seattle" on the observation deck of the Empire State Building where Sam and Annie just meet after sharing a highly intimate look where all is said but not voiced and then he says "We'd better go. Shall we?" That's what I want. Someone who loves me for me, just like how I'd love him back. It's only him and no other. I'd like to show someone my passionate side," Iris sighed deeply as she stirred more honey into her tea.

"Iris, I promise you the guy who gets to have you for his body pillow every night will be the luckiest SOB," Jim stated so seriously Iris began to giggle.

"And you said I had a way with words," she said, shoulders shaking with mirth. "I think we can finish our chess game tomorrow. You need your beauty sleep and I need to get home after your breathing therapy."

X X X X X

Wednesday afternoon Jim was relaxing in his recliner after Iris had made lunch and then left. She would return later to get dinner cooking. They'd decided to leave the chess game as an evening pursuit. Grissom had called to check on him, denying that Iris gave him daily progress reports, insisting he would come by if needed. Brass had said he was improving daily and would be back to work soon and didn't need another mother hen because Iris was filling that role nicely. Grissom had gotten the distinct impression that Brass might be benefitting more from this break from work than he knew. Jim knew Iris went to take her dogs out and also to go care for her horse. Today she'd calmly told him she was taking a fencing lesson to help her get toned back up to participate in amateur matches.

The door bell rang as Jim went to answer it. "Iris, you got a key so let yourself in."

"Nope, I could interrupt an important tryst you were in the midst of and such activity might enhance your recovery," Iris joked.

"I'll leave something on the doorknob if that's the case," Brass said with a toothy smile. "What culinary miracle are you preparing tonight?"

"Oh, tonight's lovin' in the oven menu is spicy fried chicken, baked mac-n-cheese, fried deviled eggs, sweet potato pie," she replied breezily.

Post a dinner his taste buds were still exulting over and several moves into their chess game, Brass scrutinized the board closely. Iris sipped slowly on a glass of wine as she mentally went over possible counter moves.

Jim's face was blank as he suddenly took his queen toward Iris' king. "Checkmate," he announced smugly.

"What?" Iris choked on her wine. "Blast, you're right!"

"Brass one, King zero," Jim crowed.

"Another game, sir, to restore my honor," Iris challenged solemnly.

"Racking 'em up," Brass acquiesced, setting the white and black chess pieces in order.

"Last night we discussed my failures on the Love Boat, so tonight it's your turn to dish on the same," Iris requested. "I'm sure your adventures are hailed far and wide as the stuff of legend."

"Oh you want the long or short list?" Jim snorted.

"I know you're a seasoned veteran of heart wars so whatever you want to disclose I'm all ears," Iris said and assumed a posture of anticipation.

"I can do better than that," he smirked and left the room.

Iris' curiosity meter was like a Geiger counter in her head.

Brass returned with a small wooden chest with a dark patina and aged metal hinges that squeaked faintly when he opened it. A color photograph showing a wide-grinning Brass in a suit, a statuesque woman impeccably dressed with coiffed blonde hair and a thin forced smile, and young girl with brown hair and wide blue eyes wearing a white dress. Jim dropped a gold wedding band on the table with a dull metallic thud. "Meet the wife, Nancy nee Biagio, and that's our daughter Ellie. The ring's a souvenir of bygone so-called wedded bliss. The picture's from Ellie's confirmation. Yeah, that was one of our better days." His tone dripped sarcasm.

"Biagio…Italian…you like passion…go on," Iris urged, refilling her tea mug and Brass' but he only drank another shot of JD.

"I met Nancy after I got out of the marines at Seton Hall when I was going for my degree in history. Her brother was a class buddy of mine who set us up as a blind date. We clicked somehow and got married in 1978 just after I graduated. I'd decided to pursue law enforcement after my stint in the marines because of what was going on socially in the late sixties and early seventies. Later that year I took the Newark Police Academy's four-month course and started as a rookie on the force. Ellie was born on September 24, 1982. I remember it was a Friday when Nancy called dispatch and she told me she was in labor, I was in the middle of a prostitution sting because I was now working in Vice. We barely got to the hospital in time. No man was prouder than me that day," Jim recalled with eyes that looked misty to Iris.

"What made your marriage go south?" Iris asked.

"Well, when I started working Vice, it was clear there were dirty cops so I became involved with helping to clean up the department. Doing the right thing cost me though – earned me enemies with those cops who resigned or faced prosecution, Nancy had an affair with a fellow Vice cop I worked with, and when m world was falling apart I found solace with another cop I worked with named Annie," Jim revealed.

"You had to feel you were going through a literal hell," Iris said, touching his arm sympathetically. "What happened after your divorce and to Ellie?"

"Ellie stayed with her mother, like it should be, and I went on to work my up to being a homicide detective. Annie went on to the Los Angeles PD where she's a captain. Nancy married the cop she had the affair with. Ellie's in her mid-twenties now but she's choosing to live her life makes us butt heads. I finally transferred to Vegas in the 1990's and the rest is history," Jim said with a bitter chuckle and drained his shot of JD in a gulp.

"Ellie's living in a way that contradicts how you tried to raise her?" Iris probed gently.

"Oh, yeah, I'm proud of her being a drug addict and a prostitute, a liar, a manipulator. When I was shot and lying in an ICU bed, she was trolling to find out if I had her as beneficiary on my pension and life insurance. That rolls real well being a cop's daughter," Jim growled acidly.

"It's not in her genes, Jim, it's her choices," Iris said and was going to say something else when Jim's face suddenly darkened in anger.

"She hasn't got my genes," Brass exploded harshly. His face then went pale as a severe coughing spasm ensued, and then turning a reddish-purple as the coughing worsened. He couldn't breathe!

Iris rushed to the bedroom and returned with the nebulizer and an asthma inhaler that hadn't been needed before.

"Inhale this," Iris cried, Jim taking in two deep inhalations as he fought the urge to cough further.

She got the nebulizer going in moments and placed the mask over his mouth and nose. "Breathe in, breathe out, and take as deep a breath as you can."

Jim scowled at her while he obeyed and after five tense minutes his breathing was improved. Iris stayed beside him and asked no more questions, keeping her face neutral. He finally pulled off the mask. "You didn't deserve that, Iris, and I can't believe I said that. I haven't told anyone that about her besides Warrick because he worked a case with me that involved Ellie. I guess his being gone hits me at times I don't expect it to.

"You're saying Ellie's not your daughter biologically, so I'll lay odds that it's whoever Nancy hooked up with and eventually married," Iris deduced quietly. "How did you know?"

"You get a gold star for your investigational skills," Brass said with a thin smile before continuing. "Nancy and I were separated at the time she got pregnant, each of us involved with our significant other. Nancy had stayed on birth control pills without my knowledge because I wanted kids and she wanted kids just not with me. Ellie doesn't know and as far as I'm concerned that's fine because she'll always be my daughter. The so-called father is a real slime and that hasn't changed. He and his team busted for corruption while I was in Newark. I sometimes think Ellie does what she does to keep me PO'd."

"Which makes you all the more determined to be there for her in spite of it," Iris pointed out. "You keep the door open and a candle in the window. You're her dad, you'll always love her. It's what you do."

"Yeah, that's a way to put it," Brass said and reached back into the wooden box to retrieve a hotel key and handed Iris a wallet-sized picture of an attractive woman with long auburn hair and finely classic facial features wearing a police officer's dress uniform. "Annie was the Newark cop who carried me through those tough times. This was the hotel we went to, always the same room, a haven for a little while. I don't know if I gave and she took or if it was the other way around. I only know she helped keep my sanity."

"Your port in the storm," Iris noted.

"I kept the key as the memento," Brass nodded and dropped it back into the box. He now retrieved a silk and lace garter, then gave Iris its companion photo. The brunette was statuesque with a face that stopped men in their tracks, flawless skin and coiffed hair, in a Victoria's Secret lingerie outfit with a beckoning forefinger and vampy "come hither look."

"Behind door number three?" Iris asked with raised eyebrows.

"Anne-Marie Tolsom. I've described her as a force of nature. She was married to another cop. It was a casual fling but a memorable one. I wasn't her only customer either. What can I say? My moral compass was pointing at my fly during those years. She dressed up for me one night wearing a hot leather outfit and she nearly put me in the emergency room. We broke the sound barrier for sure," Jim said, fondly caressing the garter.

"Wow, she's a stunner. I bet she put out some call of the wild," was all Iris could say, "She's sexy, no doubt, but any other entries of note?"

Brass pulled one more item from the box. It was a $25 green poker chip. The photo given to Iris of yet another attractive female with longish light brown hair, tall and leggy . "Uh, I'd have to say Rita Nettles. I met her in a casino parking lot when her car had a dead battery. Needless to say more than that battery got jumped. We hooked up briefly and I swear to God I didn't know she was married at the time. Later on, her husband was a cop working undercover of a biker gang. He got iced during a gang brawl and in the course of the homicide investigation I crossed paths with Rita again. It didn't end well. She turned out to be who snitched to the bikers about him being a UC, so she's serving a life term without parole," Jim twirled the poker chip on the table before it finally stopped spinning.

"You've had, um, interesting travels down lover's lane overall," Iris considered.

"Call it like you see it, Iris, I'm content now going to strip bars and getting lap danced these days when I need it," Jim said with a self-deprecating life. "My relationships all tend to go toxic at some point."

"Well, maybe like the Abba song "_Take A Chance On Me_", you'll meet the right girl to have a long term intensely emotional and physically satisfying association with who'll keep you stocked in the loving department," Iris said encouragingly.

"Right, that'll happen when I can quit using the Vick's," Brass winked with a husky laugh.

"Uh, it's getting late so I guess our chess game's delayed until tomorrow. Let me do the PDT and obligatory back rub so you have the rest of the evening to yourself," Iris told him.

"Hey, are you mad or something?" Brass queried.

"No, it scared me when you had that breathing difficulty. You're improving by the day so don't take that as a sign you're not. It's an isolated event. It is getting late and I need to get home so my dogs don't leave I-told-you-so's in the garage," she replied.

X X X X X

Thursday morning Brass felt he was settling into a comfortable routine with Iris albeit the unique circumstances it was due to. She'd borrow the newspaper to read the comics after breakfast while she had a slice of cinnamon sugar toast and a cup of hot cocoa. He'd been curious and asked about her ritual and seen her fond smile as she explained it. Seventh grade had a been a turbulent school year, moving three times, finally ending up in a four-room apartment near her grandmother's. She'd stop each morning before school to wait for the bus and her grandmother always had the toast and cocoa ready with the paper so she could read her favorite funnies. Jim now joined her in this morning exercise.

"What lovin' do you have lined up for me tonight?" Brass asked with a mild leer between bites of toast.

"Mon ami, tonight's culinary offering will be shrimp Creole, dirty rice, garlic mashed potatoes, and bananas foster," Iris replied with a fair French accent.

"Iris, when you stop doing this for me, it's going to be a lonely kitchen again," Jim observed with a wry smile.

"I'll be kind of sorry when that time comes but we can do it now and again. I love to cook but it's hard for just one person," Iris responded with a bit of a sigh.

"I'd like that…I mean to have your custom-made dinners once in a while," Jim said with smacking lips.

Jim felt great today in spite of his breathing problem last night. He was taking deep breaths without difficulty. His coughing was reduced and no crackles were heard in his chest when he did cough. He was nursing a Heineken watching a show he and Iris turned out both to be fans of – "Law and Order: SVU" – a scene had caught his attention that he replayed to hear the dialogue between Captain Donald Cragen and Detective Sergeant John Munch:

_**John Munch**__: "Explain to me how shmoes like us spend every night at home alone watching the History Channel while a scum like Ramsay has this nice girl's complete devotion? She's so convinced." _

_**Donald Cragen**__: Well, if there is any karma, Ramsay won't be doing much sitting down in Rikers."_

Brass raised his bottle in a salute at the TV screen with a grunt. "To the History Channel and us nice guys finishing last."

"Who's finishing last?" he heard the door open as Iris came in laden with grocery bags. He'd come to know she preferred fresh foods and ingredients for when she cooked for them. He put the remote on the end table and went to meet her.

"I was watching L&O:SVU," Brass relieved her of most of the bags as they went into the kitchen.

"Shoot, you should've waited so we could both watch," Iris scolded. "No matter I'll be busy in here as it is."

"Let me help, I feel the best yet and I'm starting to get cabin fever as it is," Jim insisted.

"Okay, sounds like a plan," Iris agreed.

Jim was true to his word and followed her directions to the letter, finding they worked well together in a kitchen setting. When everything had been prepped and in progress of cooking, Brass told her he was going out to the koi pond to feed Jaws and the rest of the fish.

"Good idea! I'll water the plants while you do that," Iris said, wiping her hands on an apron.

Brass was relaxing in his chaise lawn chair by the pond. Iris was nearby with her back from him as she sprayed the plants with a water wand. He was suddenly overcome with a mischievous thought and debated acting on it, and then he gave into the carpe diem impulse.

A sudden drenching spray of cold water caught Iris totally unaware. She yelped in surprise and turned to see Brass with a guilty grin holding a garden hose with a jet nozzle. Her eyes narrowed as she turned the setting on the sprinkler wand to full blast and gave Brass a similar treatment as she advanced on him. He saw storm clouds brewing and they weren't in the sky but in the brown eyes approaching his. To his shock and dismay, Iris pulled the elastic band of his cargo shorts open and forced the wand in! She stepped back with a full blown smirk of satisfaction and turned on her heel to head into the house. Not to be outdone, Brass caught her in a gentle flying tackle that took them to the ground where he pinned her arms above her head.

"I win," he said smugly.

"Bull hockey," Iris said between clenched teeth, struggling with all her might to displace him.

"I still win," Jim chuckled and proceeded to tickle her.

He had no way to know Iris was hypersensitive to this as she turned into a bucking bronc beneath him. A rough and tumble tussle ensued between them, Iris squealing from Jim's continued tickle attack. The ground beneath them turned into a mix of sandy mud and grass where Iris had been watering. Jim succeeded in pinning Iris again but decided to have pity on her and quit the tickling.

Iris was breathing hard, her face nearly buried in the crook of his neck before he pulled up on one elbow to regard her. "I had no clue you were so ticklish."

"I don't advertise it, not that I've been tickled lately," Iris said nearly breathless. Her eyes were a light brown he saw at that moment. Their faces were very close. If Iris started to get the wrong idea like he might, he pulled away from her suddenly.

"We're behaving like hormone-crazed teenagers," Brass said hastily and stood up, pulling Iris to her feet also. "Here I go and get sopping wet while trying to get over bronchitis; yeah, I'm a smart guy!"

"Aw, you were just in a playful mood and got me good so we had a free for all like we would when we were kids with our siblings," Iris pointed out, wringing out her top and not seeing Brass' relieved look.

"It's not like that neither of us can afford a work fling which I stay away from these days," Brass maintained.

"A work fling? No worries because I'd refuse to be anyone's temporary. I'd only avail myself for the long haul," Iris insisted and then lamented. "These are my only clothes and I've got our dinner to finish!"

"Damage control, Iris, take off your clothes…," Jim started to say.

"I thought you were out on a work fling," Iris interjected slyly.

"Funny. If I'd wanted you out of your clothes it'd of happened already," Brass snorted with a roll of his eyes. "Wash your clothes and take a quick shower while I watch over the pots and pans. I'll do the same after you relieve me, then we eat."

A short time later, Iris was wrapped up snugly in Jim's robe, plating their meal as she heard Jim finishing in the shower. She'd been concerned that the dirty rice had overcooked but thankfully it was fine. Her clothes were going through the rinse cycle in the washer. Why didn't she feel embarrassed to be in a man's kitchen making a meal clad only in a robe…his robe? The truth struck her that she felt more comfortable around Brass than she had some men she'd worked with for years at the DPD and she'd known him a fraction of the time. Iris believed they had the makings of a solid friendship and trust being a part of its bedrock.

Brass strolled in still toweling off his head and leaned over her shoulder to sniff at the food she was still plating. "As usual it smells great."

"It'll taste even better," Iris promised while he seated himself.

Over their chess game after dinner, Jim was making mincemeat of Iris' efforts to take his king and she accepted his barely contained exultant "checkmate" with a sour look.

"Come on, I won fair, didn't I?" Jim chuckled.

"Yes, no argument there, a rematch then?" Iris countered.

"What's on for my Friday lovin' in the oven?" Brass changed the subject, wondering if Iris really wanted to play again.

"I'm making for your palate's pleasure chicken fried steak, pea salad, au gratin potatoes, and apple crisp," she replied.

"Is your place ready for company?" Jim threw her a curve ball.

"Um, yes, I've got things unpacked and the house is close to a hundred percent the way I want, why?" Iris glanced at him curiously.

"Because I propose you take me there tomorrow to have dinner. I feel a helluva lot better and I need to get out. Whadaya say?" Jim asked hopefully.

"Okay, you're on," Iris accepted.

"I don't think I need the PDT either but I'll never say no to your back rubs," Jim teased.

"If you ever say at work I rub you the right way, I'm denying it to the ends of the earth," Iris shot back to Brass' raspy chuckles.

The rematch game was a dead heat when Brass' two consecutive yawns caused Iris to declare the game incomplete until they could finish it. She knew he was more tired than he'd say, so she herself be the reason she called it a night.

X X X X X

Brass glanced again at his watch because Iris was punctual and said she'd be there by four o'clock to get him. Friday afternoon was proving to be a particularly gorgeous day. He debated sending out an SOS via text to her cell phone to see if she was okay. Screw it he decided and hit his speed dial as he went to open the front door to look outside again. He was astonished to hear "Brass In Pocket" by The Pretenders playing on the other side of it. Jim opened the door and Iris was standing there trying to silence her phone.

"Is that your ring tone for me?" he asked, pointing at her cell.

"Uh, yeah," Iris replied sheepishly. "I know it's silly but I like The Pretenders and your name's in the song."

"So do I, they're a good group," he shrugged, taking her car keys. "I'm driving if you don't mind."

"I don't but the Excursion's bigger than your Charger," Iris pointed out.

"If it's got four wheels I can drive it." Brass said confidently but saw that not everything on the key ring were keys, in particular four plastic encased quarters that he dangled them at her with a raised eyebrow.

"What can I say, I'm quirky! The quarters are for the states I've lived in of Missouri, Indiana, Texas and now Nevada," Iris shrugged before climbing in the passenger side.

"I never got details on your house," Jim said to go for a different topic of discussion.

"It was built in 2006. I prefer older homes, like the one you have, but since it's just me I figured newer was the way to go for repairs and such. It was a foreclosure and a great deal. It's paid off so I don't have to deal with a mortgage. I view this where I plan to retire one day," Iris told him.

"How could you afford to pay it off?" Jim asked, surprised because he was still paying on his place.

"David's life insurance and his parents sued the convenience store company, which I wouldn't pursue, and it was settled out of court. His parents insisted I take it and make a nest egg of it. I kept in close contact with them until they passed away a few years ago. They never knew about David's extramarital activities, it would've broken their hearts. Bless them both, they even left me in their will since David was their only child. I made some good investments and was careful in my spending. My bank account's healthy," Iris disclosed.

"You picked a good area to buy in with a lot of young families. It'll be a solid neighborhood," Brass observed, pulling the Excursion into the driveway.

"Come on in and get the updated grand tour," Iris invited him in as she unlocked the front door.

The home was what Brass expected after spending more time around Iris. The décor and furnishings were varied types that melded into what Brass would term as cozy and a haven from the outside world. What would have been the formal dining area was a game room an air hockey table, a small billiards table, and an arcade style stand up video game system that she told him had all the fun games from the 70s and 80s but also to the Nintendo and PlayStation generation. Iris had a distinct preference for honey pine wood furnishings he observed. He went through the welcoming committee of Cyrano and Durante before Iris took them to the backyard. On the back patio, under the arbor, Iris pointed out to the bare earth that the bloodhounds were avidly exploring, sniffing and doing other natural things dogs do preferably outside.

"I'm having sod brought in next week to be planted along with other native plants, your backyard gave me some ideas," Iris said before they went back inside with the dogs who she shepherded to the first bedroom. Brass grinned hearing the yelps and whines of protest as Iris returned to the living room.

"You want to play tonight?" Jim noted she had her own chess set and in position to use.

"If you want to after dinner or we could watch a movie," Iris proposed.

"Got any John Wayne?" Brass inquired, thinking she wouldn't.

"You bet! My favorite of his is "The Quiet Man", Maureen O'Hara's the only leading lady who could hold her own with him," Iris replied staunchly and headed toward the kitchen.

"Do you like boxing?" Jim said as he looked over her DVD collection.

"Ah, yes, the sweet science," he heard her respond from the kitchen. "I had a major crush on Rocky and am definitely partial to the sport."

She'd surprised him again and it caused a snort of consternation.

"What'd you say?" Iris came into the living room, mixing up the pea salad in a large bowl.

"Uh, yeah, Duke and dinner with you, what more could I ask for?" Jim laughed weakly.

She tilted her head slightly at him as a faint frown knitted her brow. Her eyes were that amber-brown again. The gesture was a familiar one of hers but it reminded Brass of something else. He couldn't remember what exactly but was sure it would come to him.

"If you don't feel like it, Jim, I understand and I'll drive you home," Iris said.

"No, no, it's all good, Iris. I think it's good to hang out here as a change of pace," Jim assured her. "I feel terrific today, really."

"You'll be able to return to work before you know it," Iris agreed.

"Actually, I think I'd like to try Sunday," he divulged.

"Well, our playing house had to end sometime, didn't it," Iris said breezily with her back to him while she put the pea salad in the fridge to chill. It was just as well so she could mask her surprise.

Brass came up beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I owe you big time, Iris. I couldn't have kicked this without your help. We've become friends. I'd like to spend time with you through Sunday. After that, with you on swing shift and me doing mostly graveyard we won't see much of each other."

"I'd like that, Jim, I value your friendship, Jim, and always will," Iris said amiably and turned to pat his chest.

Later, stuffed again with good food, one chess game in his favor and one in Iris', Jim was relaxing in the leather recliner and Iris was curled up on the love seat next to it as they watched "The Quiet Man."

"Why is this one your favorite John Wayne?" Brass asked her while he'd paused the DVD so she could nuke some popcorn.

"It's a totally different role for him, it's in Ireland with horses and boxing so I'm all in," she said returning with a large bowl.

"Take a little test," Brass said suddenly, pulling an envelope from his back pocket.

"Huh?" Iris raised quizzical eyebrows at him.

Brass moved the chess set slightly so he could lay out three pictures: a sugar-white sandy beach with an azure ocean and two beach chairs under a large umbrella; St. Peter's Square in Rome; a cabin nestled in a forest setting with a cove nearby.

"Look these over and pick where you'd stay at on a vacation," Jim instructed.

Iris carefully looked the pictures over and without hesitation tapped an index finger on the cabin as her choice.

"Why the cabin?" Brass asked with a poker face.

"The beach is beautiful but likely everyone and their brother would be there. St. Peter's Basilica and Square is without question a must-see in Rome for its religious and historical significance to Christians worldwide as well a major tourist site. The cabin I chose because it'd be a place to truly get away with someone if an intimate weekend is to be had where it's just us…I mean them…I mean whoever," Iris said as his eyes held hers before she stammered and her eyes dropped.

"I think I'd choose the cabin and for the same reasons," Jim chuckled.

"You like to fluster me at my expense that's for sure. Can we start the movie please?" Iris sighed and grabbed a handful of popcorn.

At the end of the movie, Iris went to her secretary desk and retrieved a small gift-wrapped box that she presented to him. "Here."

"Uh, Iris, that's nice of you but this isn't necessary," Jim tried to decline.

"It's personalized and can't be returned," Iris said, "so please take it."

Brass opened the box to find a set of seven fine linen white handkerchiefs that were all monogrammed in a bold but sophisticated maroon-threaded script that read "TO JB – ARYT. ICK."

"It translates to "To Jim Brass – Always Remember You're Treasured." The initials of ICK are for Iris Celeste King," Iris said.

"These are great, Iris, way too nice to blow my nose with," Jim protested.

"What better way to think of me by," Iris teased.

"That saying of "always remember you're treasured"?" Jim was curious.

"My grandmother Haven said it and I think one benefits from hearing that when it's true," Iris said.

"Wise lady, so you treasure me, huh?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Yes, I treasure you and our friendship," she replied promptly, but Brass noted there was a softness in her tone and eyes.

"I bet you took some crap for having the initials of ICK growing up," Jim joked to redirect things, his forefinger tapping the embroidered letters.

"I did indeed," Iris recalled with a grimace, "but now it's a family nick name along with Velma." Her hand clapped over her mouth in surprise.

"Velma? This I gotta hear," Brass said and leaned forward in anticipation.

"Blast, okay, here goes," Iris said with sigh of resignation. She went on to tell Jim her grandmother's wish to name the first grandchild, be it boy or girl. Her grandmother's name was Lillian Violet and she was a lifelong flower lover. Iris' mother had also insisted the middle name be seven letters long and start with the letter "C." Her grandmother chose the name of Celeste, the instrument used in the "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy" from "The Nutcracker". Velma came along for her uncanny likeness to the cartoon character on "Scooby Doo" and that she was considered the smartest of her siblings. Now working as a crime scene investigator had solidified the moniker as a mystery solver, her family feeling that she was living out her destiny in some ironic way. She finished with saying she always wondered why her grandmother had named her such, both names translating to "Rainbow Heaven."

"You told me about your grandmother's belief about rainbows. She knew you were going to be special," Brass supposed.

"I just don't see myself that way," Iris said and her head tilted again with that curious appraising look at him.

"Gil thinks you are, same with Nick and the rest of the team," Brass insisted.

"Do you?" Iris asked saucily.

"Sure, I'd say to anyone you're a classy package," Brass grinned.

"Better not overdo your first night out and get you home by midnight so you don't turn into a pumpkin. Your breathing's by far the best it's been today. Do you want your back rub here or your house?" Iris decided.

"I vote for here," Jim said and pointed down the hallway. "To the guest room?"

"No, my bed's the most comfortable," Iris said knowingly and lead the way.

"Like the Three Bears story, too soft, too hard and just right," Jim quipped.

Relaxing prone on the king-size bed, Brass felt the room was like the rest of Iris' home and invited you right in. Iris was kneading patiently away on his upper lumbar back, her ministrations having the relaxing effect it usually had.

"Careful, Iris, I could fall asleep here and now," Jim said with a soft grunt as Iris continued her circular motions with her fingers.

"Haha, that'd be all we need, scandalous talk about us, about something's that not there like spending the night together," Iris chuckled. "Massage's over."

"By definition, we are, you know," Jim laughed as he put his shirt back on.

"Um, by definition that we are in the same proximity to one another but not knowing each other in the Biblical sense," Iris clarified.

"Like I said, you have a quirky way of saying stuff," Brass noted, while Iris went to her bathroom to wash her hands.

"I need to put the dogs in the garage before we leave," Iris said walking past him.

"Be right there, nature calls," Jim said and went into master bathroom. It wasn't a kaleidoscope of products he observed as he stood above the toilet. Most women's bathrooms he'd seen had a cornucopia of hair, perfume and make up brands. He noted the bath sponge hung on the shower head with a very slow watery drip. His business concluded, he grunted at the sponge, "Trade you day jobs."

Iris was in the garage with the dogs where Brass joined her. To his surprise he saw a punching bag suspended from the ceiling, boxing gloves on a nearby work table and a black motorcycle parked.

"You box?" he asked incredulous.

"I like to work out using a routine of boxing and kickboxing exercises. It keeps self-defense skills sharpened because you never know," Iris revealed matter of fact. Brass realized she was referring to her being kidnapped by Max.

"I get that. What about the motorcycle – an older Kawasaki?" Brass asked with an admiring glance at it.

"My '84 Kawasaki 550 LTD, belt drive, purrs like a kitten, one of the few good things of being with David," Iris smiled as Jim ran his hand over the saddle seat. "Do you ride?"

"I did mostly when I was a rookie patrolman. I've ridden a friend's Harley a few times since living here to keep my riding skills up," Brass said with a fond look.

"You should do it more often. Anytime you want to borrow the beast let me know. You might even dare to take me along," Iris said encouragingly, tossing Jim the keys to the Excursion drive to his house.

X X X X X

Brass knew on Saturday Iris was going to be out at the stable where her horse Kyrie was boarded and it was also where Stokes kept his horse, Whiskey. Their dual job role of being a CSI and a mounted patrol officer for the Clark County Sheriff Mounted Posse Search and Rescue he just had to attribute to their Texas influences. Walking into the main barn, he wondered if he had to be careful where his feet were but the place overall was quite clean. His nose wrinkled slightly at the smells of horse apples but the pungent smell of fresh hay helped balance the nasal assault. A placard identified the stall numbers and the name of the horses and their owners. Number eight was the one he needed to find.

Iris was stacking a bale of hay in front of it and her back was to Brass. He was sorely tempted to sneak up on her until he saw the hay hook she'd used on the bale and still held. Brass thought maybe not a good plan of action.

"Hi, Iris," he said instead behind her.

She was wearing a straw cowboy hat, jeans, boots, a short-sleeve cotton T-shirt and a headband to keep the sweat out of her eyes. Iris spun on her heel and tilted the brim of the hat back in surprise to face him. "Jim Brass, as I live and breathe, what brings you here?"

"Wow, you smell, I mean you smell nice…er..great…you know what I mean!" Jim said and thought "foot in mouth toes and all."

"Oh, I have to be smelly, sweaty for sure, but maybe you smell "passion d'iris" custom made for me in Dallas," she laughed heartily.

"It smells like coconut and something else, something familiar," he scratched his head in thought.

"You have a sensitive proboscis, smelling coconut and warm ginger," she grinned up at him.

"It makes me think of sex on the beach," he wisecracked.

"The drink?" Iris frowned.

"Nope, sex on the beach," he clarified slyly.

"Oh," Iris could only say, lips pursed into a small "O" shape.

A gray horse with dark black mane poked its head through the stall door when she laughed to direct a friendly nicker at Brass.

"Jim, meet Kyrie," she introduced him and put a sugar cube in his hand. "Give it to him palm flat up and he'll be your new BHF."

"BHF?" Jim cocked an eyebrow doubtfully at the horse.

"Best horse friend, silly," she said, "go ahead, do it."

Still unsure, Jim followed through with her instructions and offered the horse the sugar cube. He was surprised to feel soft lips like velvet delicately pick up the sugar cube as the horse crunched up the treat.

"Kyrie, huh," Brass said to the horse who, surprisingly, made a vigorous nodding response and like "Mr. Ed" with a tonguing motion. "This guy can't lack for action with the lady horses with a tongue like that."

"He knows his name, Jim, and he's popular with the mares but as a gelding can't do much. You should come up some time and I'd take you for a ride," Iris grinned.

"Iris, gelding or not, as long as it works is what matters. You know other men could take that the wrong way about you taking them for a ride," he warned her.

"You're not other men and the offer still stands since you know the context," Iris said over her shoulder.

The rest of Saturday was spent hanging out at her house, eating another wonderful lunch and dinner, playing chess, watching some Law and Order: SVU episodes on her DVR, and then he'd suggested going out to the Lucky Strike Lanes to bowl and also show her how to play pool because she never had played. He'd been victorious in the bowling and pool but Iris was also gracious about it. She'd said she'd hone her skills and kick his butt in the future.

Back at her home he was now stretched out comfortably on Iris' extremely comfortable bed, her back massage in progress as she took an extended time to pay extra attention to turn it into a full body massage. Brass made frequent ahs as she methodically tackled every muscle group, telling her that she was achieving the desired result of making him the most relaxed he'd been in, well, years. To her surprise, he was so relaxed that when she'd finished washing her hands and arms and came back into the bedroom he'd fallen asleep and was snoring. She again noted the tattoo on his right upper arm and it looked something like a snowflake with the name Snow in it. Her curiosity was patent and she'd wanted to ask him its significance but left it alone.

Jim woke up with a languorous stretch from a particularly vivid dream involving Officer Triana where their intimate activity was going to be in the top ten on his list of "when he did it" but it was odd because at the end of it she started to dissolve and change into someone else or so it seemed. He knew he was still at Iris' place and he could hear music playing faintly. It was now dark outside and he looked at his illuminated dial on his wristwatch – 10:30 PM – he'd been asleep for hours! Jim took a deep breath and no cough resulted. There was still a hint of faint crackle in the depths of his lungs but the degree of congestion was vastly improved. The energy level he had prior to getting sick was fully restored. He felt like a million bucks…even better than before he got sick. Was this the secret recipe – home cooked food, herbal tea, respiratory treatments and daily massages?

He got up and left the bedroom wondering where Iris was. Her dogs were in the hallway like they'd been keeping guard over him. They arose with faint whines but Jim gave them each a scratch behind the ears and they padded quietly behind him. The last thing he wanted was them racing through the house, maybe Iris was taking a nap herself.

In the living room, he found a sight he didn't expect. Candles were lit throughout giving the room as Iris danced alone in front of the stereo holding a glass of wine that she took occasional sips from. The different light combined with the faint but pleasant aroma of musk and spices by the candles created a very romantic atmosphere Brass thought. The first song playing was Bob Seger singing "Night Moves," followed by Percy Sledge's rendition of "When A Man Loves A Woman," then Aretha Franklin's "You Make Me Feel Like A Natural Woman" and then the Four Tops "Ain't No Woman Like the I Got." Brass just stood and leaned against the door frame of the living room, taking care that his vantage point was concealed in the shadows. She'd put down the wine glass after "Night Moves" and was still doing her dance with an invisible partner while now making gestures and singing in a low sultry alto with the next three songs. Her eyes were closed and he made sure he remained a silent observer staying back in the dark doorway. She was definitely into each song and throwing out a vibe he hadn't believed she had – it radiated a craving, a wanting, a needing coupled with an innocent sensuality he felt strongly. At the end of the last song, she drained her glass of wine and went to the stereo and turned it off. She looked at the grandfather clock and gasped, "Holy crap, he's going to kill me I let him sleep this long!"

Iris turned to go to the hallway and Brass stepped out to meet her. Her startled response was to drop the wine glass that shattered on the hardwood floor. Iris' dark eyes went dark and huge. "Jim!"

"Don't move! You're in bare feet," he commanded. He turned on the living room lights and walked by her to the kitchen and returned with a broom and dustpan. The glass fragments were large and easy to spot and it didn't take long to make sure he'd swept everything up. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you!"

Iris went to blow out the candles but Jim stopped her and pointed to the couch. He turned out the living room main overhead light and sat by her. She was trying to figure him out, he could tell by her puzzled expression and knew her mental gears had to be going in overdrive. "I like a candlelit room now and again."

"Be truthful, how long were you spying on me?" she asked.

"Spying? No way! I woke up after your awesome massage which put me out. I heard the music and came to find you. I was surprised to see you in this setting but it was interesting. Was that sign language you were using?" Jim insisted, feigning a wounded look at her question of being spied on.

"I get in a silly romantic mood every so often. I'll put on tunes that set my mood, light candles and turn off the lights, slow dance with a glass wine and even sign the lyrics. I know pretty cheesy, huh," Iris said and pulled her knees up under her on the couch.

"So this is how a day with you could end, candlelit slow dancing? No, I don't think it's cheesy. I'd call it special for whoever that guy is who gets to share it with you. Who could that be?" Jim responded but she thought there was a challenge there.

"Believe me, Jim, I wouldn't do it with any guy, just the right guy," Iris declared firmly.

"Who's the right guy then?" Jim persisted. "You're dancing around the answer, pun intended."

"There's no right guy, not yet, but there will be. I'm sure of it," Iris said with her chin up resolutely.

"Well, you came to the right place to take a gamble," Jim laughed and the tension that seemed there evaporated. "I need to go but that was a nice little show you put on. Could you teach some basic language?"

"Sure, I'll teach you," Iris agreed, walking him to the door where he bid her good night and headed out to his car. She waved as he drove off and then shut the door. The house seemed very empty to her even as she locked up and went with the dogs to her room. She lay on the other side of the bed and the outline of Brass' body was still present. Iris could smell his cologne mixed with his personal scent. She sighed and turned over, sleep now? Staring into the dark, she thought that was a laugh…a show he'd called it.

X X X X X

This Sunday he'd driven alone in his Charger and today he believed he was almost over the bronchial pneumonia with only an occasional residual cough to remind him. His strength was back and he felt ready to get to back to work. Iris had come to his aid without asking for anything in return other than the benefit of their solidifying a firm friendship. Jim was going to miss the meals and playing chess and, especially, the massages from her miracle fingers.

Her Sunday morning was spoken for as Iris had gone to church and Brass admired her commitment to her beliefs. She wasn't hesitant about sharing it but she also wasn't in-your-face about it either. It was a facet of hers that you just accepted and appreciated. It had also prodded him thinking that he was long overdue for confession and he could hear the parish priest commenting about it when he next went to Mass. Iris had presented him with a door key a few days ago to his surprise, telling Brass that if there was ever an emergency she wanted him to have access to the house. He'd been touched by her childlike trust in him that seemed unwavering.

Jim had noted that some of the drawers were sticking badly in the kitchen and had wanted to remedy it before Iris got home from service. Beforehand he'd secretly made notes on the types of slide brackets and gone to Home Depot, the sales helper there commending him on his willingness for the husbandly responsibility of "honey do's." Jim had grunted some appropriate answer and left, irritated that he was not the "husband" here but just trying to repay Iris in a small way for her kindness to him. He'd pulled out the affected drawers, removed the contents and was working when Iris arrived.

"Jim, what on earth!" Iris exclaimed as she came into the kitchen from the garage.

"I wanted this done before you got here…to surprise you," Jim said, chagrined.

"Oh Mylanta, I am, I figured I'd have to have a handyman come out, thank you so much," Iris said in a breathless rush as Brass found himself wrapped in an enthusiastic hug from her.

"Let me know first, will ya? There're other things I can do besides being a detective," Brass chuckled down at her, while she hastily released him.

"You're a gem," Iris declared, stepping back, but he saw the faint rosy blush tinting her cheeks.

"Doesn't take much to make you blush does it?" he observed as a smile quirked at his lips.

"No and believe me I view it as a negative trait of my physiology," Iris complained.

"I don't. I mark it down as part of what makes you who you are," Jim shrugged.

She gave him a brilliant smile with a rare show of her dimples. "How late can you stay so I know how long I have to whip up some dinner?"

"I need to be able to get home and clean up. I'd like to be there early since I've been out so long," Jim said.

"No problem, you'll be good to go by five o'clock," Iris promised.

"You know, Iris, this week's been unique for us to say the least. I'll extend this invitation - dance at my wedding or your wedding whichever comes first," Jim said while he struggled with an uncooperative slide bracket.

"You'd give marriage another try?" Iris was caught off guard by his comment.

"Who knows? I'd like to think someone would give me a chance," he grunted and then swore when he couldn't get the drawer to go in and he ended up with pinched fingers.

Iris went to help him by holding the other side stable so equal force could be used to ease the drawer in so Jim could check its tracking. "I'm sure there are plenty of ladies out there of the type you prefer who'd line up."

He gave her a scrutinizing look. "Yeah, like who?"

"Um, well, any of the long, leggy and luscious beauties who catch or have caught your eye, like Catherine or Sara, for instance. I saw a picture of her in Grissom's office," Iris said cautiously.

"Hell, Iris, Catherine's a close friend who I've worked with for years and sure there's been harmless flirting off and on. It's part of that friendship, nothing more or to it. Sara's another friend who I've got a definite friendly rapport with along with some private things in common. She's also Gil's special someone and that's a line I'd never cross," Jim's irritated response was clear. "I'm a man, I've got eyes, they're definitely lovely, but they're my friends and that's all."

"Sorry, Jim, I meant no harm," Iris said contritely.

"It's okay. I just want to be clear about it. Unfortunately for me that line you mentioned hasn't materialized yet," Brass sighed.

"Maybe you should revamp your palate?" Iris suggested.

"Huh?" Brass countered.

"I mean take into account other types of women who could appeal to you if you gave them the opportunity," Iris clarified.

"Oh, settle, you mean?" Brass retorted.

"No, genius, just expand your horizons a bit and be open to possibilities. You might be pleasantly surprised," Iris said tartly.

"I'll take that under advisement, Dear Abby," Jim considered then crowed in satisfaction as the drawer slid in and out with ease.

"Does this mean I can call on you whenever I have a home repair issue?" Iris said now with a pronounced southern drawl and batting eyelashes and held a hand to her forehead in mock distress.

"Yes, Miss Scarlett, I will be your Colonel Fix-It Rhett at all hours," Jim responded with the best southern drawl he could affect, as Iris pretended to faint and he caught her.

"I will hold you to that pledge, sir, until the end of your days," Iris giggled up at him.

"And I will hold you to the same, madam, of being my personal masseuse," Brass replied before he broke up in laughter at their little tableau.

"Our mothers must've loved "Gone With the Wind," she snickered while his own chuckles continued.

She took the time before dinner to show him sign language 101 and he quickly picked up on how to do the alphabet and several word signs that would allow for basic conversation.

"What's the sign for I love you?" he asked as he was still working to master the last sign she'd shown him.

"Um, why do you need to know that one?" she asked blandly but her face couldn't hide her curiosity.

"The songs you were signing to were all romantic so I figure you used it and I wondered what it looked like," he shrugged indifferently but her face had been a dead giveaway.

"Here, give me your right hand," Iris requested and moved his hand into the finger position to place over his heart.

"Like this?" Brass said and performed the same to place over her heart.

"Yes, just like that," Iris replied neutrally but inside her heart rate was preparing to go supersonic.

Dinner followed later of chicken and dumplings, green bean casserole, rice and chocolate ice cream with rice krispies – like a Nestle crunch bar she'd told him and did taste like it he was surprised to find. Her sweet tea was nuclear, Nick had warned him, but she raised a glass to his toast as he did the same of "To friendship."

She gave him the back massage he'd come to expect now and he nearly fell asleep like he'd done last night. Five o'clock came too soon for Iris when Jim told her it was time for him to go. She walked him to the door. "What a week, huh? I'm glad you're so to being all well. I have to say I got a bit used to the routine we've shared and I'll miss it a little."

Brass found her tone had a faint catch in her voice. He gave her a brief hug and followed it with a spontaneous kiss to her forehead. "You're as solid with me as Gil, Catherine, Sara, Nick, or even Greg – they're my friends and my family."

She looked up at him with eyes that were large, dark and moist, along with a tremulous smile. "I feel the same about you and them."

"It's good ground to put new roots in," Brass said. He got to enjoy one last back massage before he left.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

It was Wednesday morning of the same week. Iris was back in the saddle on swing shift and her current case assignment was shared with a fellow swing CSI. She'd come back to the lab to follow up with Hodges on analysis of some fiber trace evidence. Jim was fully engaged with covering graveyard homicide cases with Grissom's team so in turn she'd not seen him. The results Hodges had were promising for the case and it had improved her mood. It also proved to be worth it in more than one way. Hiding a yawn behind her hand before she left to return home, she was surprised to see Brass walking a cuffed man up the hall toward booking.

The man was agitated, cursing loudly and proclaiming his innocence with each step. He was trying repeatedly to break Jim's grip on his arm. Iris meant to simply pass them.

"Hey, Jim, tough customer?" she gestured at the suspect.

"Yeah, like all of them, he's been unjustly accused. This clown's suspected in the homicide I was working before I got sick. He allegedly knifed a man over a gambling debt but we both know who did it. The way he's acting makes me think he's on something though. Come on, smart guy, booking's your next stop," Jim snapped at the struggling man.

"I'm innocent," the suspect shrieked and lurched at Iris, throwing Jim off-balance, and the man's elbow hitting her full in the face. To her credit she pushed back to counter his move and not make Jim fall, as they both shoved the suspect to the wall.

"I need some back up here," Brass roared down the hall toward a clique of uniforms.

Four officers answered his call to take over custody of the suspect. Brass' patience was at an end. "Get this prick to booking!"

Iris was holding her hand over her mouth with back turned to Brass. She was his next concern, especially when he saw the blood drops on the floor.

"Iris, let me see," he coaxed and she reluctantly removed her hand.

"Is it bad? Blast, it sure hurts," she said in obvious discomfort.

"You've got a busted lower lip and its bleeding, come on," Brass pulled out one of his new handkerchiefs Iris had given him from his suit jacket pocket, put it against her lip, then took her by his other arm to head to the nearest bathroom.

"Jim, that's the ladies room," Iris protested, her voice muffled by the hanky.

"So what," Jim returned, ignoring the startled looks and stares from the correct gender occupants, as they walked to nearest sink and he quickly took the handkerchief to soak with cold water. He folded it into a compress and gave it back to Iris with an order. "Go to my office."

"Oh no, your good handkerchief," Iris moaned looking down at the crimson-colored fabric.

"What's with you? You have no problem with me snotting it up but you do if it's to help your busted lip. You women sure have screwed up priorities, remember go to my office!" Brass snorted and walked out.

Iris winced inwardly at his sarcasm and bit off her own snappy reply. She meekly went to his office as requested, no make that ordered, and sat in one of the chairs opposite his desk. He came in moments behind her.

"Here, I got you an ice pack from the fridge in the first aid area," Brass said and gave her the cold pack wrapped in paper towels. He took his bloody handkerchief back to head to the men's room to rinse it out. Ten minutes later he returned, the handkerchief as clean as he could get it and now in a zip-lock bag he got from a woman in the break room finishing her lunch break.

Iris kept the ice pack in place and said nothing, still stinging a bit from his earlier retort.

"Okay, let me check it," Brass said and she obeyed while he inspected her lip. He reached over to his desk to open a drawer and retrieve a small handheld mirror to give her. "Yeah, that's gonna be puffy for a while."

Iris looked at her lower lip and grimaced at the sight of the reflection. Her tongue pressed against her teeth and thankfully none were loose. "I saw stars for a minute when he clobbered me," she told Brass.

"Yeah, you sure took a cheap shot but you hung in there and didn't go down with all three of us like dominoes," Jim said, putting away the mirror.

"Well, you pass your basic nursing test," Iris said with a faint chuckle. "Have you had breakfast?"

"Uh, no, but I need to follow through with the suspect after he's processed for questioning. I'll have to take a rain check on breakfast. I gotta get going but keep that ice pack in place," Jim said and walked her out so he could lock his office up.

"Yeah, I'm headed home myself, see you around the lab," Iris said looking away from him, trying to hide her disappointment, then walking toward the locker area.

Jim sighed. He knew hurt feelings when he saw them and nearly took a step to go after her and make it up somehow. The how was the question.

Iris sat in front her locker thankfully alone as the acute realization she'd fought to deny for days now had to be acknowledged. How in heaven's name had she allowed herself to fall so hard and so fast for homicide detective Captain Jim Brass? Iris knew she had been attracted from the first moment they'd met and she'd struggled to keep what she thought and felt in balance confined to the boundaries of a coworker friendship. She shook her head ruefully with a grim chuckle. Her feelings for him had been like a battering ram to the part of her heart she had kept guarded for so very long. What was she to do? Be bold and openly declare her regard? Keep silent and fall honorably on the sword of being yet another female friend? Transfer to another police department? Tell Nick, Catherine or even Grissom and seek their counsel? Take a roofie and jump Brass?

"I'm so sure he wants to hear from me: Did you know you give me constant goose bumps? It could be the sound of your voice, the smell of your cologne, a chance brushing of fingertips, a glance meant only for me?" Iris said aloud sarcastically to herself with another ironic chuckle at the thought of "take a roofie and jump Brass".

"Glance meant only for who?" she heard and was alarmed to see Nick come into the locker area.

"Oh, I was practicing some lines for a play," Iris said and hoped she didn't sound too lame.

"Where? At your new church?" Nick guessed with a raised brow, opening his locker.

"Yeah, you said it," Iris replied straight-faced, "It's quite a drama."

"Hey, what happened to your lip?" Nick asked with concern and a pointing finger.

"Jim had a rowdy suspect and I tried to help, got an elbow in return," she said and applied the ice pack again gingerly.

"Brass knows how to hold his own. I've seen him in action before and I'd pick him to be on my team to kick butt with. Tell me when the play is and I'll try to come see it," Nick grinned. "Oh, before I forget, be ready to go _Da Mix_ this Saturday evening with the team because I already know you're working day shift to help catch up their case files!"

"Oh me, Lord help me if Jim Brass goes to this, what am I to do?" Iris groaned to herself.

X X X X X

The parking lot of _Da Mix_ was nearly full and Iris had trouble finding a parking lot. Her one out call for the day shift had been to an arson case stemming from a domestic dispute. Her first fire case in Vegas she had joked to herself. Nick had texted her that the team was staying from seven to nine before they had to get to the crime lab. She took a brief glance in the vanity mirror on her sun visor and then at her attire – black jeans, a maroon short sleeved shirt with a scoop neck, wearing black boots that would be comfortable to dance in if she were asked.

She stowed her backpack purse safely under a seat and out of sight, took a deep breath, got out of the Excursion to click her electronic key fob to engage the locks and alarm.

Nick was waiting at the entrance of the club. "You look great!"

"Thanks, sir, shall we?" Iris grinned and he placed a hand behind her back while they went inside.

The atmosphere was alive with people on the dance floor or in the bar area, a Beyonce song was being played as Iris observed the trendily dressed young black DJ who looked the image of cool – earphones half on, dark glasses, chatting it up with an attractive woman with bouncy pectoral appendages.

Nick walked her to a large table where Grissom, Brass, Catherine, Riley and Greg were seated. To her surprise, Doc Al Robbins was with the group also and she seated herself beside him and as far as she could from Brass who she gave a silent nod in greeting. He shot her a wink.

"Doc, I'm thrilled you could come," Iris said delighted but had to talk loud over the noise of the club. "But where's your lovely wife I was hoping to meet?

"My dear, Barbara and the kids are visiting family back east. I decided to take advantage of your kind invitation before work tonight," he replied.

The DJ started to play "Do You Love Me" by the Hollies. Doc Al took Iris' hand as the table cleared to head to the dance floor. "I can't do much with a cane but Barbara and I do enjoy dancing."

"We'll manage," Iris said encouragingly, watching Brass and Catherine doing the twist, Riley and Greg following suit. Grissom was involved at arms' length with a younger blonde whose brunette friend was right beside them with Nick.

Everyone was having fun, switching partners, but Iris made sure Jim was engaged with others, while she went on to dance with Greg, Nick and Grissom.

She was surprised to hear the DJ now spinning "Passionate Kisses" by Mary Chapin Carpenter and found she was without a partner for the moment. A hand slid into hers to clasp. Iris looked up and sucked in a breath. Brass laughed at her surprise. "You wanna dance or what?"

What could she do? He'd asked like it was a challenge. The rest of the team and Doc were out there having a blast. Fate was cruel she lamented silently. With a fixed smile, she followed him back to the dance floor. Jim slid a hand to the small of her back and led her in what she took to be some form of a two-step version of a club dance. She kept looking down to watch his feet until she familiarized herself with his moves, then Brass moved her closer to him.

"I thought you were the dance expert here," Jim said in her ear.

"I can do ballroom dancing, some of the Latin dances. I prefer the slower ones myself, that's true couple dancing to me," Iris replied, punching up the volume of her voice so he could hear her.

"Me too, great foreplay isn't it?" Brass said with a husky growl.

Iris gulped as an intense mental image of Brass in a context she shouldn't think of materialized. She was glad for the darker dance floor because her blush would've outshone the neon blaze of the Vegas Strip.

"I never thought of it quite that way," Iris said at last, causing Brass to laugh anew because he could feel how warm her cheek was to his. She moved to the pace and rhythm he set, and spontaneously started to sing along with part of the lyrics of "Shouldn't I have all of this, and passionate kisses from you, passionate kisses from you."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Karaoke night was Monday." His toes got stepped on just enough to make him wince while she smiled at him innocently.

"Point taken, King," he grimaced at her.

The song ended as the DJ announced he was following the song with another Mary Chapin Carpenter, because he was the DJ and he was a closet country fan, and he couldn't have known it was her personal favorite of the country artist – "Shut Up and Kiss Me."

Iris couldn't resist and started to sing along again, Brass holding her closer and she thought dangerously tighter, but she reasoned it was to protect his toes because a shoe horn wouldn't have fit between them.

"_Don't mean to get a little forward with you, don't mean to get ahead of where we are/Don't mean to act a little nervous around you, I'm just a little nervous about my heart 'cause/It's been awhile since I felt this feeling that everything that you do gives me/It's been so long since somebody whispered/Shut up and kiss me."_

Brass suddenly gave her a long slow dip and brought her up close with that sly toothy grin of his. Her heart was hammering in her chest, thinking his grin constituted a challenge, but she continued to serenade him:

"_Didn't expect to be in this position, didn't expect to have to rise above/My reputation for cynicism, I've been a jaded lady when it comes to love but/Oh baby just to feel this feeling that everything that you do gives me/It's been too long since somebody whispered/Shut up and kiss me/There's something about the silent type attracting me to you/All business baby none of the hype/That no talker can live up to."_

They had an established rhythm moving together and Iris found herself lost in their dance as she continued to sing to him:

"_Come closer baby I can't hear you, just another whisper if you please/Don't worry 'bout the details darlin', you've got the kind of mind I love to read/Talk is cheap and baby time's expensive, so why waste another minute more/Life's too short to be so apprehensive, love's as much the symptom darlin' as the cure/Oh baby when I feel this feeling, it's like genuine voodoo hits me/It's been too long since somebody whispered..."_

Their backs were to the rest of the group as Jim had guided them somehow to a dimmer corner of the dance floor. Her throaty alto had caught him in the moment too and the song's bluesy honky-tonk sound and the way her eyes were looking up at him just so made what happened next the thing to do as she sang, "Oh baby I can feel this feeling that everything that you do gives me, it's been too long since somebody whispered, shut up and kiss me, shut up and kiss me."

He obeyed with a throaty whispering growl of "Shut up and kiss me" and gave her a long, probing open-mouthed kiss and to his surprise it was returned. Her lips pressed to his at first were hesitant but yielded to his inquisitive tongue. The pleasure of the contact made her arms tightened about him as did his about her while their kiss deepened and progressed. They were swaying to the music but going slower and slower, literally glued together as one, while the rest of the group had no clue what was transpiring over the corner. From their perspective, Brass and Iris were just engaged in a nice slow dance.

When the song ended, there was a brief outbreak of whoops and applause. Jim and Iris parted as she caught her breath and composure. He also realized the gravity of what had just happened and tried to lighten the moment. "That was to thank you for all you did for me last week."

Her lips were still pulsing from the kiss and her system was still reeling from the electric shock that had gone through her. Her mental and physical states were a jumbled mass of confused emotions and sensations. Oy ve!

"You're welcome," she replied weakly as they returned to the table and she sank into her chair. Her knees felt ready to buckle. She drank her club soda quickly to help clear her head.

"Iris, we need to get headed to the lab for assignments, hope you don't mind," Grissom said, but secretly his heart was aching for the fact Sara hadn't been then there to be part of it.

"Not at all, boss, this was fun," Iris assured him.

"Girl, we need to do this again," Catherine said and Iris nodded.

"Enjoyed it," Greg said, glancing a moment at Riley who had ridden with him.

"I got three phone numbers, a very productive night," Nick crowed with a triumphant grin and ever the lady's man."

"Interesting night spot," Doc Robbins commented. "Dave better be prepared for what I'll be playing in the morgue tonight."

Iris was still reeling a bit from Brass' delicious kiss and felt awkward being close to him again this moment as the group left the club. Fate was fickle and dealt yet another blow when they discovered they were parked next to each other. They stood together silently for a moment – who would blink first?

"Jim, go get the bad guys," she said neutrally and opened the Excursion's driver door.

Brass held the door open for her and then her hand to help her step up into the SUV. "I still say you're too little to drive this beast. Look, about the kiss, it really was to say thanks so are we….?"

"Yes, mon ami, we are….," she interrupted him and gave him the "okay" sign and started the Excursion beast up as he shut the door. She was left wondering what the "are we and we are" actually was if anything.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Brass was done checking with dispatch and received his first outcall. He wanted to touch base quickly with Grissom before he left and was on his way to Grissom's office when he heard raucous laughter coming from the crime lab break room. He found Catherine, Nick, Greg, Riley, and surprisingly, Iris.

"I missed the punch line, Catherine," Brass framed the doorway.

"Oh, Jim, Iris had us in stitches about a scene from a movie," Catherine was wiping tears from her eyes. Nick and Greg were chuckling, and even Riley was still occasionally giggling.

"Well, can you do an encore?" Brass gave Iris an appraising squint.

"Sure. Jake and Sarah go back to her house and are passionately kissing and headed to bed. To their dismay, it's realized they are sans condom. Jake can't understand why she's not prepared for this kind of moment, but Sarah retorts there aren't moments like this for her. They hop in a car and are now on a mission frantically driving through town to buy one. One store is closed and the next one is out. Jake has the theory that everyone in the city is having sex on the same night but they will not be denied. All is not lost when they finally locate a store and he can get some. However, opportunity's no longer knocking because the mood's passed for Sarah," Iris had verbally been spot on acting like the sexually frustrated couple and pantomimed driving frantically, hitting a brake, etc.

Catherine and the others broke up in fresh laughter at Iris' repeat performance which she'd punctuated with different gestures and voice tones.

"There's a sweet scene though where Sarah says "l don't wanna just do random dating, Carol, l wanna be in love, I wanna wake up next to someone and see them smile. Do the whole Sunday breakfast thing, go out and get the paper, stay in bed together all day." That's how it ought to be," Iris said dreamily.

"Just be sure _he_ pays for the room and breakfast," Catherine snickered.

"Hey, _she_ can take care of the tab just as easily…women's equality," Nick declared.

"Go Dutch," Greg offered as a compromise.

"What chick flick is this?" Jim queried with a sarcastic snort.

"_Must Love Dogs_…check it out…see you all later," Iris grabbed her backpack purse and brushed by him. Brass gave Catherine a "what did I do" shrug.

"Oh, are you two lovebirds bickering?" Nick said with mushy kissing sounds.

"Nick, where the sun don't shine, huh," Jim pointed at him and strode out of the room.

Brass rubbed at his neck with a frustrated grunt. Lovebirds…with Iris? Just where had she gone off to anyhow? She was nowhere to be seen. Just as well as he changed direction to go to Grissom's office where he wished he would've headed to in the first place.

Grissom looked weary to Jim as he poked his head in. "Got a minute?"

"Sure, what's up?" Grissom beckoned before rubbing at his temples.

"You look like the weight of the world's on your shoulders…Sara?" Jim's scrutiny and ability to read people was uncanny sometimes.

"You know how it is when you're in the middle of work and a thought that shouldn't creeps in," Grissom replied with a faintly wan smile. "We parted badly and more than once I've been thinking my time's done here, especially since Warrick's death."

"Hell, Gil, we all have that issue. God knows I had mine with what happened with Officer Bell a few years back and then taking a bullet from Willie Cutler. I really struggled about was it time to just take an early pension and toss in the shield," Brass sank into a chair with groan. "Take a long break with her and come back when it's the right time for you."

"You ever follow your own advice, Jim, with that cabin of yours?" Grissom asked with a sage look.

"If we had time to take up that discussion over a couple of glasses of JB I would but my first outcall's a 419 with motorcycle tread marks head to toe. The Bandidos and the Down and Dirty gangs aren't playing nice tonight. Let's take a rain check though on commiserating in my afterhours watering hole at a future point," Jim said with a jerk of his thumb in the direction of his office.

"Yeah, we've done that our share of times," Grissom nodded as Brass left. He glanced at a nearby bookcase where a black-and-white photo of he and Sara in a silver antique frame from when they'd taken a rafting trip on the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon. It had been exhilarating like the roller coasters but also to find that Sara willingly roughed it in a tent as they camped by the river. They hadn't been able to keep their hands off each other and being discrete with the other tents near theirs had been a supreme challenge. That sidebar benefit along with being able to observe the river's diverse population of insects in their natural habitat had made for a memorable trip with numerous color and black-and-white pictures to add to his personal photo albums. The ache in his heart was particularly acute tonight as he shuffled the assignment cards together before he headed to the break room.

X X X X X

Monday night two weeks later and Jim was headed to the vending area to answer the call of his sweet tooth. He heard a vending machine being assaulted and a feminine nonverbal castigation of it not cooperating. Jim rounded the corner to gallantly offer assistance only to find Iris doing battle with the vending machine to use a worn out dollar bill. "Come on, you mechanical ninny, this is the only dollar bill I got!"

She stopped when she saw Brass and her eyes narrowed slightly. "Oh, sorry to hold you up, I was just going."

"Allow me, I still know how to be chivalrous," Jim smiled at her as he blocked her way, opened his wallet and put in a crisp dollar bill that the machine accepted with a bright chirpy beep.

Iris punched the choice for a bag of pretzels that Jim bent down and got for her. She placed her worn out dollar bill in his hand that he pushed back at her.

"My treat," he said amiably and gave her the paper currency back.

"No, I won't be in debt to you," Iris countered and stuffed the dollar bill in his suit breast pocket.

"Iris, I'm trying to be nice here," Jim said but his tone was irritated.

"Thanks, I guess this is the closest we'll ever have to breakfast or dinner at work together," she quipped tartly and went past him to disappear in the stream of people going up and down the hall before he could respond.

Jim stared several moments where he'd last seen her and then sighed heavily. He couldn't blame her for being touchy. In the ensuing days since he'd returned to work and she'd gone back to swing there had been the times when their paths had crossed. If he'd been in his office, she had poked her head in as times before to invite him to dinner or breakfast. He'd consistently declined her friendly overtures to join her, knowing that she had likely gone to the trouble of preparing the meal. She'd done a few spreads for the swing shift and Grissom's team, Brass always finding a generous plate sealed in a foil pouch in his office. He'd asked Nick how Iris had been able to get access to his locked office. Come to find out the night janitor had a weak spot for her homemade Thai food. Her persistence to cement their friendship and her originality at getting him a homemade meal caused him to smile. It wasn't necessary but how to tell her. She didn't wear her heart on her sleeve but he wanted to be sure she wasn't sore at him from now till Doomsday.

He decided to drop in on Grissom and found the bespectacled supervisor in his office poring over Catherine's crime scene photos of the case they were working on together and possibly near to solving. "Gil?"

Grissom looked up and to Brass' surprise there seemed to be slightly dark circles under his eyes that reflected a preoccupied look. "You sleeping okay, pal? You look like…how does Iris put it…wreck of the Hesperus…Longfellow poem, right?"

A slight smile relaxed Grissom's face. "I've had some things on my mind. Of course our Iris seems to have rubbed off even on you with that expression."

Jim eased himself into a chair. "Yeah, my ancient degree in history helped dredge up that factoid of the day. So now that we've had a brush with literary culture what's up?"

"We all have our days where the job grinds…it remains my turn," he replied somewhat cryptically. He silently noted Bass made no reference to Iris.

"Yeah, grind's a good way to put it," Jim agreed. "Glad today's payday…full check for all."

"Not everyone," Grissom noted.

"Someone on your team get shorted by accident?" Jim wondered.

"Iris did," Grissom replied.

"She's not on your team though but how could she be shorted when she's salary?" Jim said.

"Her pay took a hit because she doesn't have vacation time accrued yet and can't borrow it until she's here the probationary three months. She's short for the week she was out to help you. Even salary won't compensate that," Grissom clarified.

"I ought to make it up to her somehow," Brass rubbed at his neck. Grissom knew that body language when something bothered his best friend.

"Are you and Iris on good terms?" Grissom asked, taking off his glasses.

"Yeah, as far as I know, why?" Brass returned.

"Just an observation I've seen since you both returned to work," Grissom said.

"We haven't seen much of one another. I mean come on we're graveyard and she's on swing. Has she said something?" Jim was inquisitive but kept it casual.

"She only mentioned her assignments seemed to preclude the times she's able to see any of us and I took that to mean you too," Grissom shrugged.

"Well, I suppose that ties in with Rich's discretion on assignments. The next time she makes a meal for the team, I'll be front and center to partake with you," Jim promised. "I'll see you on shift."

Jim's sudden exit struck Grissom as well as his peculiar response to say something about swing assignments caused Grissom to reach for his desk phone.

Brass had Iris paged via the lab operator and she hadn't responded so that meant she was off premises. Betty, the swing assistant supervisor, was still in her office when he made a discrete inquiry via his cell phone. Iris' case file was finished and she had the rest of the day free until mid afternoon and Betty freely shared with Jim where Iris would be.

X X X X X

Iris' frustration was beyond measure as her departure from the crime lab first led her to go to the stable where she took Kyrie on an hour long trail ride. What would usually help clear her mind didn't, even when she'd also cleaned the stall and restacked hay bales. She showered at the main stable building and decided to head to the Las Vegas Fencing Club to see if the instructor she'd signed up with might have an open slot this morning.

Why had Rich been assigning her to what she'd term "easy" cases since she'd come back to work after seeing Brass through the worst of his pneumonia? Nothing complicated – no homicides – nothing challenging to the skill set of a level 2 CSI. She did her best not to let it weigh on her heart but it did anyhow.

Rene was surprised to hear from her newest student but during their cell phone call confirmed she could have Iris come in for some practice drills. She figured the upcoming amateur match Iris had signed up for had prompted this and could appreciate Iris' zeal to hone her technique. Rene was known to be a rapier wit, proudly accepting the sword pun, and her sarcasm took getting used to. Iris was now accustomed to it. Those that didn't know sometimes got the sharper edge of it and weren't prepared. Iris sometimes thought that only Rene's fencing skills and popularity as an instructor kept her employment assured.

Clanging metal rang throughout the gym as different pairs went through fencing drills or routines the instructors oversaw. Iris had just finished a punishing routine with Rene and pulled off her mask to wipe the sweat from her face and glasses.

"Iris, your energy today is like one of those twenty-somethings over there," Rene laughed as they watched the man and woman sparring nearby. She mopped her face with a towel.

"Oh age is just a state of mind to me anyhow…I don't feel late forties today for sure. I just need to let off steam," Iris allowed a chuckle.

"Does this have anything to do with your bulldog?" Rene queried.

"He's not _my_ bulldog. I should've never told you that nickname. He's someone I've gotten kind of close to at work. I've never implied there was something more going on," Iris huffed at her.

"If you say so, I just think you got used and you won't admit it," Rene insisted and went into an en garde position.

"He's not like that at all," Iris said defensively and pulled down her mask and engaged Rene in an even fiercer drill.

After several minutes of frenetic swordplay, Rene waved Iris off. "Okay, I'll accept he didn't use you and your energetic defense of that point. His honor is restored!"

"He's a friend, Rene, and I just can't have his character sullied like that," Iris said gasping for air herself. Muscles and nerves were sending group protests to her brain and a nice long shower was in order.

"Iris?" a deep masculine voice she knew too well said.

She turned with a controlled effort to hide her surprise to find a casually dressed Jim Brass in dark gray Dockers and a blue-gray polo shirt, chest hairs protruding innocently at the V of the open neck. She tried to ignore that. "What are **you **doing here?"

Jim thought he heard a tone of gentle contempt but chose to ignore it. "I thought you might be free to go eat."

"Why now? Because we're nowhere near work and you don't have to be seen alone with me? Your bravura is florid," she said and her exasperation was punctuated with a toss of her head.

"You don't have to get bitchy," Jim shot back with an angry growl.

There was a metallic hiss in the air as a blur of motion caused Brass to take an involuntary step back. The tip of Iris' sword was pointed directly at his crotch.

"Circumcised?" she asked in a cold voice.

Brass' eyebrows shot up but he said nothing.

"Wanna be?" she inquired in the same frigid tone.

Jim made an involuntary gulp, swearing to himself the tip of the foil was closer than ever to his "man land."

"Be glad I'm not PMSing," she snapped, lowered the foil and strode out of the gym.

"You have to be Brass," Rene said laughing with an upraised brow.

"Guess I live to say I am for another day. What's got her so worked up?" Jim asked with a thumb jerk toward where Iris had exited the gym floor.

"I'd say you're the reason at the moment. She only gets that animated when you're the topic tied in with how her job's going. Iris said work's got her goat right now. Do you know why? Come to my office, I'll get you a cup of java," Rene tried to sound hospitable during her inquiry as they walked out of the gymnasium. She wanted to see what made Brass tick.

"I honestly just stopped by to invite her to lunch," Brass maintained in Rene's office as she gave him a cup of coffee and she drank from a bottled water.

"Her surprise was genuine to see you here. Which meant you knew where she'd be right now, which meant you had to have followed her, or which meant you made inquiries of where she'd be and that means what? Are you stalking her?" Rene asked pointedly.

"I'm not stalking her. I confirmed she was here through the crime lab. What's it to you?" Jim countered testily.

"You must be threatened by her use of a sword, I mean from a phallic point of view, depending upon your package," Rene said with open sarcasm while making lazy circles in the air with her foil and a fixed glance at his below-the-belt area.

"What the…I got the full goods right here, sister, and my package always delivers and delivers big!" Brass snapped tersely with a confirmatory grasp at his nether region and stalked out of her office.

Rene shook her head slowly before she began laughing while she poured out the cup of coffee. She wondered if Iris had any clue how riled up the bulldog had become just being queried of why he'd come there in the first place.

X X X X X

That afternoon near three o'clock Rich Bailey was balancing the assignment cards with the staff he had available, one person already out sick and another gone on his honeymoon. He was glad to have Iris available to help balance the staff to case ratio without calling in a favor to Grissom or Edwards to give up a graveyard or day shift CSI to help out. A soft knock at his office door interrupted his thoughts. "Well, Iris, your ears must've been burning, I was just thinking about you. Please come in."

Rich's amiable air was diminished as Iris took a seat and he saw her flushed appearance when she blurted, "Are you unhappy with my job performance? Is Grissom? Do you want me to transfer to another PD or go back to Dallas?"

"Whoa, Nelly, what brought this on?" Rich asked with upraised hands in a "stop" motion.

"My first case for this crime lab was high-profile, which I didn't ask for, but I handled it and the end result was positive for all concerned. I know I had to take off over a week for my FMLA situation suddenly but I didn't think it had caused a rift with you as my new supervisor or Betty. You've had me on low-end cases since I returned to work and assigning homicides or more difficult cases to CSI's with less experience than me. What other conclusion can I draw than you don't have confidence in my skills as a CSI, so is my next stop Human Resources?" Iris related in a rush because inside her nerves were frayed to the breaking point.

The swing supervisor pulled a cold bottled water from his small fridge to give her and a Mountain Dew for himself. He took several moments before he responded. "First, Gil and I have complete confidence in your skills as a criminalist. Second, there's no rift with the FMLA you had to take even though I'm know you took a negative hit to your paycheck. Third, I'm sorry how I've delegated case assignments to you…it was a favor I was doing for someone."

"For who and for why?" Iris was perplexed.

"I'm not at liberty to indicate who," Rich said with an uncomfortable look.

"You mean you can't or won't disclose?" Iris pressed hard.

"It's someone outside of the crime lab and that's all I'll say. If I gave you a homicide case it was asked that I work on it jointly with you to see if you could handle it. We're short-handed as you know and I couldn't spare that kind of coverage," Rich explained.

"You've seen my jacket from the Dallas crime lab. I was on several homicide investigations and never once was my capability called into question. My performance evaluations were at the top of the rating scale. If I couldn't do the whole job, Grissom'd never have hired me! That's a bogus reason, Rich!" Iris challenged him with a frustrated smack of her hand on his table.

"You're right, Iris, but our intentions were good. I'll amend that in this afternoon's assignments. You'll have a 419 Jane Doe found an hour ago in a dumpster behind Circus Circus," Rich told her.

"Who's covering it as homicide detective?" Iris queried in a calmer tone.

"Well, it's not Brass if that's any consolation," Rich laughed guardedly but his face said more and he now realized it.

"I understand, Rich, perfectly," Iris said, "I never heard this part of our conversation."

X X X X X

Grissom was dividing up case assignments as he'd done the same way since he'd become the graveyard supervisor to the team all these years. "I'm leaving the lab. Catherine will assume the supervisor position upon my exit. Ecklie and I will be looking for a new level one CSI," he calmly announced to the team. While their faces clearly reflected stunned amazement, Grissom's cell phone rang and he excused himself to take it.

Nick's mind though in shock instantly thought why would they look, Iris was ready and perfect to plug in now. He kept a poker face for now.

X X X X X

Iris was back in the lab to process the trace evidence she'd collected at the homicide behind Circus Circus. She was walking past Brass' office and saw he was there on his laptop. Her inner voice cautioned to go right on by with her evidence bags, but her Scotch-Irish temper had been simmering too long. Iris rapped on his office door. She was ready to do battle and tear Brass a more than deserved new one. He looked up and his face took on a wariness also reflected in his voice. "Iris, what's up?"

She shut the door behind her and placed the evidence bags in one chair and took possession of the other. "I'd like to know why you recommended against assigning me homicide or other hard cases to Rich."

"Oh that's bullsh…," Jim started to jeer.

"Please…don't…just tell me why," Iris suddenly rose up and placed a hand to his lips. She then went and pulled the blinds closed. Their discussion was going to be private and she prayed her voice would stay below the shout level she wanted to use instead.

"I don't have to," Brass said testily and folded his hands on the table.

"Do you believe I can't do this job, that I don't have the stomach for it? Why would you try to sabotage me? All I ever tried to be was a friend to you and if this is how you treat one I'm sorry for you and sorry for me!" Iris confronted him and her calm veneer disappeared. He saw her anger and hurt. It cut at his heart like a rusty knife. He saw she was ready to argue her point passionately.

"You can do the job and do it well, Iris, I just didn't want another Holly. I was hoping you'd just get a belly full and transfer somewhere else or better yet go back to Dallas," he told her flatly.

"I thought…I felt…I hoped," Iris faltered as her anger faded suddenly from a white-hot fire to the familiar aching, dull pain she'd carried far too long in her heart.

"Felt what, hoped what?" Brass asked monotone.

"That there was a connection…a rapport…an affinity of some kind between you and me," she stammered softly.

"You're a good person, a kind and giving person, but if you thought there was more I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you that impression," Jim said and it sounded somewhere between pity and sympathy.

Iris' felt her eyes well up and she turned so he wouldn't see as she said formally, "Ah, silly me, sorry to have intruded on you, Captain Brass."

She turned with evidence bags in hand to open the door and leave, nearly running into Officer Triana Masters. Iris and the beautifully dark brunette shared a look of clear recognition as she yielded the doorway. "Officer Masters, Captain Brass is free to take his next appointment." She walked off as Triana gave her a curious glance before she came into Jim's office.

"Jim, long time, no see and I've missed big Jim. Can he come out and play with Miss Kitty?" she purred breathily with a seductive tongue licking her lips and her eyes focused at his belt buckle.

"No can do, Triana. That's in the past and, uh, big Jim's spoken for. Why are you here?" Brass said, trying to be confident.

"That's not what I hear and I've asked your closest sources, so tell me there's hope for us. Let's try one date and see where it takes us," Triana gave a sultry giggle and tried to continue utilizing every trick of erotic flirting in her arsenal to wear Brass down.

"No, Triana, that's a closed chapter between us with no chance of a sequel, please go," Jim was steadfast and pointed at his door.

"She was wrong," Triana said in surprise as those luscious lips Jim knew from past contact now pouted while she crossed her arms.

"Who was wrong?" Jim asked with a cocked brow.

"Iris, that's who. She told me you wanted to see me and discuss resuming where we left off. I know our association was common knowledge but I was surprised you'd ask a goody-goody like her to tell me you were interested again when all you had to do was just whistle. I asked her that myself and she said you had a scratch that only I could itch," Triana said haughtily.

"I'm sure she had good intentions, Triana, so let it go. I know you've got a waiting list so cross my name off…permanently, okay?" Jim said with all the resolve he could muster and showed her out. She gave him a tongue-friendly peck on the cheek "for old time's sake" and even watching her walk away with that vampy way she confidently carried herself made him stare longer than he meant to.

What in the devil was Iris up to he pondered silently.

He'd just sat back down to resume his laptop activity when Catherine and Nick literally burst into his office. "Have you heard?" Catherine started the conversation. Nick's phone vibrated in his pocket and he saw the text message from Iris: _"Who is Holly to Brass?" _

X X X X X

Grissom knew the team was still trying to process the news of his intent to leave the lab over the ensuing days, but he'd just accepted a new case that he wanted to lead the team investigation on. He'd had to wade through the sea of questions he knew he'd be asked not only by his team but Doc Robbins, Super Dave and the lab rats. Doc Robbins had bluntly asserted he was crazy and then bemoaned the prospect of having to tell his myriad of old jokes to new ears. With Wendy and Super Dave, it had been somewhat easier. For Wendy, he told her she'd earned it when she'd expressed her gratitude for his support and encouragement. Super Dave insisted that Grissom would miss the job during the time he was in the morgue and identified maggots on Curtis Keesey's body as the investigation was building and showing ties to the infamous Dick and Jane serial killer, Nathan Haskell. Grissom said to him, "There are bugs everywhere…I will miss you, though."

When he'd discussed his plans with Catherine, she'd surprised him when she told him she knew his intentions before he did when he felt it to be the opposite. Her adroitness was on par with his own because she knew the emotional toll the recent events of Warrick's death and Sara's leaving had had on him. Grissom knew he was leaving his team in her very capable hands and he found solace in that.

Grissom had encountered Brass outside of his office and Jim felt it the time and place to broach the subject he didn't want to but had to. "So, I hear you're movin' on."

"I am," Grissom said matter-of-fact.

"That's too bad," Brass said glumly.

There was an awkward silence for a moment.

"We'll stay in touch," Grissom reassured him.

"Sure. You know, the barbeque, Labor Day, the Fourth of July. Go out on the boat," Brass suggested possible get together scenarios.

"You got a boat?" Grissom was surprised.

"No," Brass replied, wistfully.

After Grissom left, Jim went back in his office and opened the desk drawer that contained the envelope with his power of attorney paperwork and drew a heavy sigh. His best friend was leaving CSI and likely Vegas. As he looked over the forms, the question came up in his heart. Who could he trust to look out for an old dog like him? Catherine? No, she had her mother and Lindsey. Nick? Stokes was a good guy but he wasn't the right choice. Ellie? No, no and hell no. Things were still too strained there for him to hope to ever count on her. His mind went to a better subject. His cabin sat right by a cove on Lake Mead, he liked to fish, so maybe it was high time to get a boat. His gut told him the likelihood of he and Grissom staying in touch like that was good to say but hard to do. As much as he wanted to think he and Gil were socially connected for as long as they'd been friends, the truth was they weren't and he felt a pang of regret over that. The afterhours drinks they'd commiserated over had been pretty much the extent of socializing. Opportunities to have gotten together to just even bowl and have a beer had never been realized. He felt Gil should just tell the lab to stuff it now and go find Sara, get as far away as they could and get busy making little Grissoms.

When Brass got home, he decided to relax with a cold Heineken and watching some tube and finish watching a nature show he had accidentally recorded on the DVR. It was to have been a special on hockey but the cable schedule had been screwed up. Instead the program was about Scottish wildlife and the animal being profiled at the point he'd stopped watching was the moor fox. As he watched the animal's inquisitive expression and the way it would cock its head slightly with its amber-eyed gaze, he now knew why it seemed so familiar and she didn't even know she had the similar mannerism. He tilted the bottle toward the TV in a silent toast before draining its contents.

X X X X X

Nick had opted to meet Iris at the diner where the team had hung out so many times but not since Warrick's death. He'd decided he wasn't going to let the place haunt him. Iris was already there nursing a cup of hot chocolate when he arrived. News of Grissom's decision to leave CSI had swept through the crime lab but Nick had called her to tell her right away. Grissom wanted to meet with Iris personally about the announcement that a level 1 CSI would be sought. They had agreed to meet in his office in the near future. He asked the hostess for a coffee before he headed to the table.

"Hi, Nickers," Iris looked up from her cup as Nick sat beside her. "I'm surprised but not surprised at the same time about Griss."

"Same here, ICK," Nick used one of her family nicknames as her hand slid to pat his reassuringly. "He's been in a fog with what happened to Warrick and then Sara's going away. God knows he's put his time in here. I wouldn't be where I am today without having him as a mentor…as a friend…heck, an older brother looking out for me. Yet I want him to stay so I guess I'm selfish."

"I'd say each of us is a little selfish in our own way. I dreamed about working a case with him and still want to be on team Grissom. I have to see it the way you do a church, it's not the building but the people that make it up and the same holds true with the team he's put together. It won't be the exact same but it will go on," Iris waxed philosophical as she stirred her hot chocolate before taking a sip.

"Little homespun Midwestern wisdom," Nick drawled.

"I reckon so," she drawled back.

After several moments, Nick's expression became serious. "You wanted to know about Holly Gribbs. Ten years ago Brass was the CSI graveyard supervisor and he took Holly on as the rookie CSI on the block, basically as a favor to Holly's mom who was in Traffic. Jim made it known he wasn't thrilled with having her on the team, so Catherine took her under her wing to guide her along. Holly was investigating a robbery case to process the scene. Brass had Warrick monitoring her to be sure she was following procedure, but he had to leave unexpectedly and initially she was with another officer who also left her alone. The perp came back and attacked Holly and shot her. To Holly's credit, she scratched the perp and his DNA got him arrested and the case solved. It was still a bad deal though with repercussions. The gunshot wound proved to be fatal and Holly died during surgery. Brass got demoted and sent to homicide, Griss took over as supervisor, and I think Jim's always felt indirectly responsible for what happened."

Iris processed what Nick had shared and she struggled to keep a neutral facial expression. "What a terrible time for the team, Nickers! I'd wondered if she was someone he'd been attached to in some way. Still I don't understand why he'd compare me to her. I mean the poor girl was a newbie CSI but a resourceful one given the horrible circumstance she was in. I'm a level 2 and given what happened back in big D I'm confident about taking care of myself in a scrape."

"I guess unconsciously he considers the same scenario when someone new comes to the team, no matter what their skill level, and he's resolved to looking out for all of us in his own way," Nick hypothesized.

"That doesn't surprise me, you all are his family," Iris agreed.

"Aren't you too? I mean you're part of the team and a friend even though you're on swing," Nick insisted.

"I don't think he has confidence in my ability to be a CSI. I really think he'd be overjoyed to hear I've decided to go back to Dallas or transfer to another police department far from Vegas. It just seems he wants me gone. We're more oil and water when around each other," Iris lamented and motioned to the waitress for another hot chocolate.

"He'll come around, Iris! Don't you dare talk about leaving Vegas! You're here to stay! Show Brass man you're as stubborn as he is" Nick exclaimed vehemently.

"Well, I guess I have your vote of confidence and that's enough for me," Iris laughed. "I'm probably gum on the bottom of Brass' shoe but he'll just have to deal."

"Remember, one of your favorite sayings is "keep the faith"!" Nick reminded her.

X X X X X

Grissom and his team continued on over the ensuing days with their investigation of the old Dick and Jane murders of Nathan Haskell and what now appeared to be a copycat serial killer now with the exact MO. Iris had wished desperately that Griss had made a request for extra hands to help, namely hers, but it hadn't materialized. It was proving to be a roller coaster for the team with twists and turns galore. She "kept the faith" as Nick had wisely advised and kept her nose to the swing shift grindstone, working new homicides or other case types jointly or solo with a high success rate. Rich and Betty had declared she could never leave their team. She purposefully saw to it that she didn't see hide-nor-hair of Brass, but she continued bestowing her culinary tokens via the night custodian to his office. It was her subtle way of saying "I'm still here." Her discrete inquiries made sporadically to Nick or Greg confirmed Jim being observed in his office devouring his meals.

Iris knew that Griss had enlisted Dr. Raymond Langston, a forensics professor at WLVU teaching a criminology class and who was engaging Nathan Haskell in a series of video conferences for that class, to act as a consultant on the case to help the team's investigation. At Grissom's recommendation, she was in the process of reading Langston's book recounting his experiences of the Angel of Death serial murderer of 27 patients at the hospital he was a staff pathologist at. She hadn't met him but felt she'd have an instant soft spot with her background of working in the DPD forensic pathology department initially before she went on to be a CSI. It was proving to be a fascinating read that was hard to put down when she had any spare time to enjoy reading curled up in her big comfy leather sofa at home.

Tonight was different with Catherine having texted her to stay and meet her in Grissom's office. She was to be there at eight o'clock and was sure to be punctual. Grissom and Catherine were already seated as she took the second vacant chair.

"Iris, I wanted to personally go over what I said to the team for when I leave and the search for a level one CSI. You've been very gracious about being on swing so that Riley could take what should've been your spot. Catherine and I've discussed it and while we want you it's due to city budget constraints now that I can't offer you that position," Grissom began the conversation.

"What if I took a pay cut?" Iris offered.

"Gil, that's a great idea," Catherine said hopefully.

"I actually anticipated that and went back to Ecklie with that exact proposal. He shot it down, saying that you were overqualified to take a position and pay reduction like that when a level 2 is needed and approved on swing," Grissom said with a slight frown. "I dissected every angle possible to get you on the team and believe me it was a heated argument I had with our new undersheriff."

"Griss, I appreciate you going to bat for me so hard core. You can't roll a lucky seven every time, sometimes the house wins," Iris reasoned with a wry smile. "I'm not going anywhere and will stay on swing until Catherine has an opening she can let me take as a legitimate transfer."

"Iris, Brass has called you a classy package and I think the term fits. You can count on my accepting your transfer although Rich'll be upset," Catherine winked.

"Uh, well, it's nice to hear the good captain thinks of me in such glowing terms," Iris nodded somewhat abruptly. "I better clear out your gang will be coming in soon." With that, she left Grissom's office to head home. She was just in time too as she Brass coming in the opposite way to go to his own office. Iris breathed a silent prayer of thanks on her way out to the Excursion.

"Now what do you make of that Gil? She acted like I jabbed her with a cattle prod at the mere mention of Jim," Catherine remarked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm not sure myself. It seems like she's avoiding Brass doesn't it? It's a shame because I was hopeful there were signs of a strong rapport progressing between them. I asked Jim if they were getting along okay and he thought they were," Grissom replied with a puzzled look.

"I think something's been different between them since the night we all went to _Da Mix_. I can't prove it right now but call it women's intuition," Catherine declared.

"As far as I could tell, they shared a few slow dances, nothing suspicious," Grissom recalled.

"Something might've happened between them during those slow dances, Gil, but Iris hasn't shared anything with me," Catherine maintained.

"We'll have to take a wait-and-see profile then until there's more evidence. Now, I wanted to talk to you more about Dr. Langston," Grissom said to discuss his thoughts further with her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Brass didn't like it one bit. Even though Grissom and Dr. Langston had gotten off to a bad start when Gil had gone to WLVU and sat in on the video conference class involving Nathan Haskell, Grissom had been tossed a bone literally by that twisted SOB Nathan Haskell via Dr. Langston during a call that the forensics professor had Grissom listen in on. Under the bridge, Joel Steiner's skeletal remains had just been accounted for and now a new male victim with 10 stab wounds was found just a few feet away in another shallow grave Brass had identified as Jeffrey Masters. Jim had the equally unpleasant task of now disclosing to the CSI team that Jeffrey's wife Maureen was also missing and likely had at best 48 hours to be found alive. They had to stop whoever this freak-in-training disciple of Haskell's was and now. The frustration remained for the CSI team and Brass that Haskell and his student seemed to stay one step ahead as in the original Dick and Jane serial murders. Knowing that no female victims of Haskell's had ever been found weighed heavily on the detective's mind as well. The sense of urgency to find Maureen was particularly acute.

Jim knew Grissom had also been informed by Ecklie that the sheriff himself had requested he remain on the case until its conclusion. Some guys would've said tough and walked, but Brass knew Gil would've never done such a thing. He would leave on his terms alone.

The hypothesis had been floated that a student in Langston's class could be acting as a more than willing accomplice for Haskell to vicariously carry out a new murder spree. Part of the investigation was now spotlighting the class students and Brass' focus had initially been on Dan Forrester. He made a very likely suspect to Jim because the guy had supposedly recommended involving the class with talking to a serial killer, then going the additional mile to personally contact Haskell. How quickly they change their tune Brass mused after questioning Dan the man. Once the light went off that he could be a suspect and before Jim could say a parody of "book 'em Danno", Forrester backpedaled and claimed several students jointly proposed the idea to contact a serial killer for their class.

After that, he was on standby while the CSI's went to the classroom in an attempt to see if Haskell was using visual cues during certain comments as the method of contact with his accomplice. Brass had a new name to go with…that of Thomas Donover…and he was headed to Donover's house with some uniforms. Thomas' wife, Kelly, denied knowledge of her husband's whereabouts and Brass felt she was indeed clueless. A search warrant was executed by the CSI's with Greg finding shoes that had matched track treads for the Ian Wallace and Justine Stefani murders. Nick found a box of video tapes but no VCR could be accounted for, yet his recollection of the opposite being found at in possession of informant Gerald Tolliver. His disgust had been palpable at relaying the first victims being tormented by Donover, Tolliver and then Haskell. However, Kelly Donover was able to confirm that Tolliver was a friend of her husband's.

Time was ticking down for Maureen…and patience was not a present virtue for Jim Brass.

The team's efforts to now locate the house where Donover was holding Maureen was in full swing. When Hodges analyzed moss found on the bottom of Donover's shoes and determined it grew on the north side of Lake Mead, Grissom came up with the plan to use the position of the moon on star charts to compare the video tapes as way to pinpoint where the house was that Haskell had taken his victims. While Grissom was doing this, Langston's willingness to be more involved than just a consultant was evident when he proactively went to see Haskell and bluff him into disclosing the location of his female victims by claiming Tom had been apprehended and Maureen rescued. His effort was in vain though as Haskell saw it to be a ruse and refused to offer any information. Haskell's smug expression of assumed triumph made Langston want to reach through the bars and personally exact justice by his own hands, but he kept his head and relayed what occurred to Grissom.

Brass had to admit to a margin of grudging admiration that the good doctor was willing to extend himself so to help Grissom and his team. His own ongoing prayer they would be in time for Maureen's sake and that one day Haskell would be shaken over hell on a rotten stick.

Grissom's hunch paid off big as it was determined the house was located on Black Mesa. Brass and his team followed by Grissom with the CSI's literally flew to the location, Jim personally fearing they were too late and Haskell would get another pound of flesh added to his list of victims.

Thomas Donover was feeling the heady rush again as he continued to torment Maureen. Her begging and pleading were fueling this exhilaration that no drug could manufacture. It was time now for physical union and its sweet release as he judged it her time to die. The power to hold another's life in your hands and then be its executor without remorse thrilled him to the core of his being as he readied himself to strike.

Brass and his team broke through the door and raced through the house, Jim saw Donover preparing to kill Maureen and without hesitating fired the head shot that sent Donover to a very hot place he had no doubt. Brass gently released the ties that bound Maureen while voicing quiet reassurances to the traumatized woman before the EMTs took over. Later, as the CSI team painstakingly searched through the house, Grissom responded to some inner prompting to check the under the floorboards beneath which rested the female victims of Nathan Haskell.

Iris was sure her phone was going to blow up from the barrage of text messages between her and Nick as he kept her updated with what transpired at the Black Mesa house. She composed another text message for a different recipient while a debate went on in her heart to send or not send.

Jim's phone vibrated as he waited on the CSI's to finish processing the house. He wanted to be there when the news was given to Nathan Haskell that he lost this round. Thinking it was Ecklie wanting to tout his undersheriff privileges for updates so he could be poised for the eventual news conference, he wanted to ignore it but pulled out his phone. His eyebrow cocked in genuine surprise to see the text message.

"_Take no prisoners, mon capitan, bad guys zero, Brass 1. ~ ICK"_

He pulled out one of the handkerchiefs he now always carried to look reflectively at its embroidered message.

X X X X X

Langston was in his WLVU office as he brooded over what he hoped was his last interaction with Nathan Haskell for the rest of eternity. His hope was that in some small way he had been of service to Grissom and his CSI team to break the cycle Haskell had succeeded in perpetuating even while behind bars. He had a frank admiration for his forensic colleague and the interaction he'd had with Grissom and his team. To his amazement, Grissom had stopped by for an unexpected visit and Langston was further astonished at Grissom's suggestion he should apply for the level one CSI position on the graveyard team.

X X X X X

It was to be Grissom's last night at the crime lab. He finished packing up his office in spite of Hodges coming in to make a last-minute plea that he not leave the team. Hodges told him that the bad guys would win if he left and Grissom discerned that beneath the surface Hodges was sincerely expressing his admiration as well as sense of loss at his departure. Grissom honestly responded it was the right time for him to go so that Hodges could understand why he couldn't change his course of action. At the end of their conversation, Hodges' acceptance was assured and his hurt somewhat assuaged.

Grissom reflected a moment on his saying good-bye to Nick and Greg. Nick pledged he'd never forget the things he'd learned from him, and Grissom replied that Nick had been his best student. He understood that what Nick meant on a different level was not restricted to his job skills. Greg's transition from lab rat to being a capable CSI had had rough spots, but his acknowledgement to Grissom that he had changed his life was sincere and heartfelt.

As Grissom took his last walk down the familiar hallways, he saw the usual activity to be expected of the team with its collective nose to the grindstone and interacting with Ecklie, the lab rats, and Doc Robbins. The last two he saw were Brass and Catherine, likely discussing a case he deduced, as Catherine saw him and gave him a smile and subtle wink. In that wink and momentary eye contact was silently conveyed her thoughts – she would miss him the most in some ways but her happiness for him shined through. He felt her unspoken blessing and unconditional support for this new journey he had to embark upon.

Grissom would never know that Brass saw him peripherally but chose not to give a visual acknowledgement like the wink he saw Catherine make or even a curt nod of farewell. Jim had many he called acquaintances but few he could name as actual close friends and the one closest to him was officially leaving. It left a bigger hole than he thought it would. He was grateful to be sitting with Catherine when Grissom went by. Change sucked he thought but it was inevitable in life. One day the guard would change for him too.

He was headed for the Denali when he spied Iris locking up her Excursion. She waved at him and she saw he was carrying a box and she bit her lip.

"Aw, Griss, it's your last shift then?" Iris asked and walked with him to the Denali.

"Yes, I'm going out the way I wanted to without party or fanfare," he said and put the box in the passenger seat.

"I wish I could've gotten the chance to work a case with you," Iris said shyly.

"We did indirectly on your 'All the King's Horses' case. Remember you're doing well here. I have confidence in you and your abilities as a criminalist. You'll be part of the team when the time's right. I've never reconsidered hiring you," Grissom reassured her with a gentle pat on her shoulder.

"Where are you off to next?" Iris said.

"I thought about doing some traveling," Grissom said with a distant look in his eyes.

"Please say hello to Sara for me. I hope I meet her some day," Iris deduced with a faint smile.

Grissom was startled; he'd told no one of his plans. "I didn't tell anyone…"

"I know but it's time to follow your heart and where she is it is," Iris told him simply.

Grissom nodded and went so far as to give her a brief hug while he said, "Take care of him."

Iris looked up him puzzled. "Nickers will be fine."

"I didn't mean Nick." Her confused expression caused Grissom to give her a cryptic smile and one last pat on her shoulder. "Be well, Iris."

Iris stepped back as Grissom started the Denali, backed out and left the parking lot. She raised a hand in farewell as he drove off. They'd all be well he knew. The plane ticket to Costa Rica was in the console between the seats. He had a vivid mental image of Sara, her soft lips always hinting the need to be kissed, the scent of her raven hair, the look of her sleepy eyes, and how she felt laying in his arms just after they'd made love. Now where was his straw hat?

X X X X X

Brass decided to formally pass the baton to Catherine as he poured a shot of his tried and true associate Jim Beam into two shot glasses to keep the tradition going. It was the end of shift and one for the road as he toasted, "May the hinges of our friendship never grow rusty…to Gil and Sara and the team."

After a Catherine left, Brass hit play for the CD in his laptop and it was a Motown jazz to R&B mix that he liked. Iris had shown him how to make it on his home PC after he'd confessed he didn't know how. It was on shuffle mode and he smiled as he heard again The Four Tops singing in their smooth soulful harmony "Ain't No Woman Like the One I Got." His fingers tapped in time as he heard certain lines: _"When she smiles so warm and tender, a sight for sore eyes to see…She don't ask for things, no diamond rings…She's a real good friend right to the end…So together like a hand in glove…Wouldn't be surprised if my love keeps growin', bigger every minute that she stays away…I'm a lonely man when my baby's gone…to make her happy doesn't take a lot." _

X X X X X

A week after Grissom's departure, a sense of normalcy had returned somewhat to the crime lab. Catherine had been offered his vacant office but in turn urged Nick to take it over. He'd vacillated briefly about it but opted to accept it. Catherine wasn't surprised to see him decide to also have Greg and Riley share the real estate too. Hodges' touch was to be sure Grissom's infamous fetal pig remained in place. Nick had also assumed custody of Esau, Grissom having imparted instructions in the care of tarantulas before he left. Dr. Ray Langston had applied for and been hired in as the new level one CSI to the graveyard team. He was in orientation and would join the team after completing it. Catherine had touched base frequently with Iris since and saw no change in Iris' position that she had no rancor whatsoever in Langston's joining the team nor had she expected any. Iris didn't roll that way and she knew when the timing was right she'd get her transferred to the team, hoping city budget constraints would permit it. She'd tapped Nick as assistant supervisor as one of her first "official" decisions as the graveyard supervisor.

However, tonight Catherine was experiencing her first staffing crunch: Greg and Riley were both out with salmonella food poisoning contracted after eating breakfast at a local restaurant. She knew Greg had invited Riley and was working up to potentially asking her out. Since Grissom and Sara's relationship had gone public, in spite of Ecklie's objections to coworkers becoming involved, she personally had no issue provided it didn't interfere with job performance. Her own experience with the heartache over Warrick was going to take whatever time she'd need for it to lessen so she was throwing herself into work all the more these days.

Catherine knew who she wanted in this situation and didn't hesitate to call. "Rich, it's Catherine. I'm still down two bodies. Greg and Riley aren't over the hump yet. Can you spare Iris for a few days?"

Iris was home deep in tube. She'd watched "Coal Miner's Daughter" and it always made her melt when Tommy Lee Jones' said "Darlin'" in that low gravely growl. It was followed by the new episode of "Chopped" on the Food Channel and now "Julia and Julie." She was pondering over the exact state of her feelings involving Brass while taking another sip of red wine. Just what were her exact motives? Was it friendship and genuine concern born from spending time with him during his health crisis? Was it something else on a deeper level she had hoped would develop between her and the good detective? She chided herself mercilessly for having been instantly attracted to him, much to her surprise, and had tried to initiate a low-key pursuit of him. Hadn't they gotten to know each other better, discuss their failed marriages, and hadn't she gone as far as making mental notes about the type of women that attracted Jim? The latter had been her motivation for initiating Triana's reconnect with Brass which she was sure culminated in their picking up where things left off. Another bon voyage on the Love Boat she'd helped facilitate she thought morosely.

Her cell phone rang and the ring tone told her it was Catherine. Iris nudged Cyrano out of the way who occupied the other half of the leather couch so she could get her phone and turn off the DVD. "Hey, Catherine, bored yet?"

"Are you kidding? Langston's to start tonight which means I have to partner him with someone, and I'm still short Greg and Riley because of tainted scrambled eggs!"

"Ack, Catherine, anything I can do to help? I'm off tonight but no plans on the horizon."

"I know its short notice, Iris, but I talked to Rich first. Can you cover graveyard a few days with us?"

"You know my motto, one is glad to be service and I live to serve, I'll be there within 45 minutes."

Iris headed to the crime lab with the determination that any interaction she had with Brass would be friendly and cordial. He'd suspect nothing and have no emotional morass to contend with…she was doing well enough with that on her own for the both of them.

In the lab break room, Catherine dispensed assignments with the same routine Grissom had kept. Her thinking was "if it ain't broke don't fix it". Iris took a seat by Nick as Dr. Langston arrived to take a chair. She noted he had an intensity about him that was both cerebral and physical. Having someone like that on your side in a dark alley would be a plus.

"Hi, Dr. Langston, I'm Iris from the swing shift. I'm enjoying reading your book," she introduced herself and held out her hand for him to shake.

"Ah, well, thank you for the review and please call me Ray," he said with an amiable nod.

"Iris, you've got a 419 (deceased person) in the parking garage of the Luxor. A blackjack dealer was found with his throat crammed full of cards, holding the jack of spades in one hand and the ace of spades in the other," Catherine said while sliding the index card to her with the information.

"Someone was a sore loser," Nick quipped.

"Any preview on who the homicide detective is for the case?" Iris asked, silently pleading please not Brass, please not Brass.

"Your favorite and mine, Brass," Catherine replied archly.

Iris nodded with a neutral expression as she fixed her gaze on the index card.

"Nick, you and Ray have a 407 (robbery) to work up," Catherine said. "I've got a combo 415/426 (assault/rape) to take care of off the strip."

"See you all back at the ranch," Iris said, preparing to head out to the Excursion.

"Yup, Lord willin' and the creek don't rise," Nick grinned at her, Langston bringing up the rear.

X X X X X

Brass saw Iris coming, the picture of the dedicated CSI with kit in hand, while he stood by the body of the deceased blackjack dealer in the employee section of the Luxor parking garage. Super Dave waved at Iris with the beatific smile he almost always had when she saw him. Jim started to whistle to himself while he waited on Iris to set up what she needed in her kit. She gave him a veiled glance, why was he whistling? She should've known he had a capable pucker not only to whistle a tune with but deliver a lethal kiss by.

"The liver temperature gives a TOD (time of death) of 9:00 PM. Cause of death is a stab wound directly to the heart. The killer knew right where to strike to make it clean, quick and silent. Victim also has a human bite wound to the outer dorsal/palmar right hand. The Luxor employee badge and drivers license in his wallet identifies him as Ivan Wu. He's all yours, Iris," Dave said.

"Vicks, you're a sight for sore eyes," Jim said genially, his notepad in one hand.

"Um, whatever, what's the story here?" Iris ignored him to examine the body closer and not dwell on this nickname of Vicks that Jim was suddenly addressing her by.

"Grouchy, are we? Vicks, is this only way you can get close to a guy is when he's dead? Hoping for a diamond ring?" Brass quipped smugly.

"Are you loopy? You're not making any sense. I have no need for a diamond ring. I've done the wedded deed once and I can succeed in meeting a live male. Thanks for the apparent concern. What's the story on the victim?" Iris grumbled at him.

"Okay, okay, back to business. Like Super Dave said, this is Ivan Wu working the afternoon/evening shift dealing blackjack. I'm going to get statements from the pit boss and floorman he worked under and view the surveillance camera footage," Brass told her, referencing his notepad.

"Cards jammed in the mouth, ace of spades in the left hand and jack of spades in the right. It's a deck from the Luxor. The stab wound looks straight in and not angled, so perhaps the killer was close to the height of Mr. Wu here. The bite wound nearly goes to the bone," Iris commented as she took a series of pictures for the wound entry going through the clothing and with the shirt opened to view the wound along with the bite on the right hand. She then kneeled to remove the cards to tag and place in evidence envelopes.

"Yeah, 21 the hard way, he got dealt a bad hand literally and it bites," Brass commented with a wry smirk.

"The ace of spades is also known as the death card and another name for the Jack of spades as Holger Danske – a knight of Charlemagne," Iris remarked nonplussed by his trademark sharp witticisms. She went on to collect trace evidence and take swabs of the large collection of blood by the victim's left side. Jim waited patiently while she processed the scene and he continued making conversation.

"Gil would be proud of you making those vague references. You knew in advance, Vicks, right?" Brass asked.

"Um, yes, I knew about the ace of spades which is common knowledge but, no, the info on the jack I googled on my way here," Iris confessed.

"I'll stick around until you release the body to the ME's van and then I plan to check out that footage. The perp should be on Candid Camera," Jim proposed.

"Ah, you're going to be my gallant knight to protect me from all harm?" Iris mused drily.

"Look, Vicks, you're a real good friend, like to the end as they say, so sure I feel protective like that," Brass shrugged.

Iris' head cocked slightly in that now-familiar way as she gazed at him several moments before she bestowed a slow warm smile on him. There seemed to be a tenderness reflected in the dark brightness of her eyes. Much seemed forgiven at that moment or so he hoped.

"Can I join you while you get your statements and check out the video?" she asked.

"It doesn't take a lot to make you happy," Brass observed.

"Oh, hey, my idea of a dream date…a dead guy can't skip out," Iris said straight-faced. "By the way, why are you calling me Vicks all of a sudden?"

"You need a Vegas nickname and recalling your rubbing that smelly stuff on my feet came to mind," Brass replied.

"Lovely, I'll add it to my AKA list," Iris sighed, rolling her eyes.

On their way to the casino's main video room, where cameras constantly scanned the activity throughout the Luxor, it was his turn to get clarification. Jim suddenly asked, "What's the deal of trying to hook me back up with Triana anyhow?"

Iris gave a guilty start but recovered quickly. "It's quite simple really. You have a past history with her of a confirmed highly intimate nature. You said her name a few times in your sleep. The sound of it suggested conjugal activity was the goal and your voice had a dreamy hopeful quality. Your subconscious was talking so I took it upon myself to discuss you taking up where you left off and she was interested."

"Well, for the record, it was never like we were so together like a hand in glove. It was a fling for both of us and never went beyond that. She got what she wanted and so did I. I told her no thanks. No more matchmaking for me, Vicks, okay?" Brass clarified with a pointing finger.

"Hmm, you sound like the guy in the Bob Seger song "Night Moves"," Iris said drolly.

Brass cocked a "don't go there" eyebrow at her.

"Okay, right, no more matchmaking," Iris promised contritely with a cross-your-heart gesture.

"Let's just say I could be a lonely man because my baby's gone but I'm fine with it because I've come to think I never had "the one" to be my real baby to begin with so that's life," Jim declared and her response seemed to mollify him as they were met by the casino pit boss and floorman.

His casual insistence that he was lonely but content with it went through Iris like a hot knife but she just silently nodded. Her thought and goal to keep it amiable and neutral with Brass maintained at all costs. Still how he was talking to her was peculiar to say the least but it seemed oddly familiar at the same time. She was a bit frustrated she couldn't immediately pinpoint his strange track of conversation.

The pit boss and floorman sat with them as video was played of Ivan Wu having an active shift until about the 8 PM caption time. A tall attractive woman who could do a turn as a fashion model in a sequined form-fitting dress was shown getting chummy with the willing man who had a crowd around the table for the hot streak he was having and the enlarging pile of poker chips. She was observed trying to surreptitiously slide a few one hundred dollar chips when Ivan busted her by grabbing her hand with the concealed chips. An obvious altercation resulted with a heated exchange between the woman, the player and Ivan taking place. Two security guards escorted the woman away while the player tipped Ivan with five $100 chips and left to cash in his winnings.

"Can you back it up to get a good look at the broad?" Jim asked the casino worker running the video board.

"Glamazon's back in Vegas," Jim pointed at the frozen image of the woman just before the fracas broke out.

"Glamazon? Do you know her?" Iris was confused.

"She is actually a he, Valentine Arrellano, a "shim" and one of the better transvestites working the strip. I've worked some homicide cases where the victim got rolled by a she who's really a he. As a guy, I can tell you I'd be plenty sore to discover the woman I was hoping to have a nice time with didn't have the right equipment," Brass said.

"Their heights are very close," Iris murmured to Jim and his slight nod confirmed her observation.

"Ivan's lucky this stopped when he did, the house was out ten grand," the pit boss growled.

"I'd say his luck ran out in the end, wouldn't you?" Iris said. "Does Glamazon have a record, Jim?"

"Minor stuff as I recall – pot and ecstasy possession, theft, solicitation, disorderly conduct. Glamazon had gone to LA several months ago but its hard times all over so he decided to try again back home," Jim shrugged. "He's pretty regular where he prefers to hole up so finding him shouldn't take long."

The next video was from the employee parking area. Ivan Wu was walking in unhurried manner when a high-heeled shoe thrown at him made contact on his back followed by its mate in rapid succession. Ivan whirled in obvious anger and his expression showed he was yelling at someone only to find himself dodging fists as Glamazon charged into view. The two were nearly the same height as suspected. Wu showed he could duck and weave as he evaded Glamazon's punches, but that changed when Glamazon finally connected one right in the solar plexus. As Wu doubled over, Glamazon tried to get him in a headlock that Wu broke and was able to apply his own. Glamazon proved hard to hang onto as they continued to wrestle, then Glamazon twisted was able to find a way to bite Wu's right hand. Grabbing his hand in pain, Wu tried to back off but Glamazon advanced on him and drew out a knife and with a quick thrust stabbed Wu in the left upper chest. Wu collapsed on his back instantly as Glamazon looked furtively around to see if there was anyone else around. Seeing no one, Glamazon spit on Wu's body and rifled through his pockets where he removed the $100 chips as well as a deck of cards. Glamazon thumbed through the cards quickly, posed the body with a card in each hand, taking several others to shove into Wu's mouth but before doing so wiping them quickly with a napkin.

Brass questioned the pit boss and floorman, and then took their statements. As he and Iris headed back to the parking garage, he said, "Okay, Vicks, I've got some spots to go check where Glamazon's likely to be and have some uniforms with me. This case looks pretty cut and dried from the video footage. I'll let you know if I get lucky or not." He pressed the speed dial on his phone. "Brass in Pocket" started playing on Iris' phone in her pocket.

"What the…why?" Iris said, irritated, pulling out her phone to cancel his call.

"Just testing the Brass Emergency Support Team," he said.

"Oh, that's good, B-E-S-T, I get it," Iris said drily.

"Why Vicks, you're the only person I know who uses that ring tone for my number so I guess I'm supposed to be honored," he teased with a mock bow.

"Maybe you'll get lucky for sure with Glamazon!" Iris shot back, stung yet again by his sarcasm.

"Not bad, not bad. I take snarky to levels existing technology can't begin to calculate. I need an apprentice," he chuckled.

"Well, I'm headed back to the crime lab with my booty," Iris said when she caught Jim smirking momentarily at her backside.

"This booty, genius!" Iris exclaimed with a glare and pulled an evidence bag from the Excursion.

"Heh, just getting another of many rises out of you, Vicks. I need to start keeping score," Brass laughed before he headed to his Charger.

After he drove off, Iris smacked the driver's door in frustration before she got in. He exploited every opportunity to get her peeved and succeeded most of the time. How in heaven's name was she to come up with a way to maintain a casual friendship and work relationship while holding in check the intense feelings he evoked in her. She recited the serenity prayer to herself on the way back, especially irked by the new nickname of Vicks. Iris came away with the notion that she was a stench in Jim Brass' nostrils.

X X X X X

Brass had found Glamazon/Valentine at the apartment of a fellow "shim" partner he was teamed with who worked the same casinos and brought him in for questioning without incident. He was dressed as a guy now and protested his innocence all the way up to the point of Brass showing the security camera video from the casino and in the employee parking area. At that point, he lawyered up and Brass was all too happy to release him to the custody of the jail officers. He called Iris but it went to voicemail and he wondered if she was too PO'd to talk, so he texted her that he'd snagged Glamazon. Her response came seconds later.

"_Dazzling detective deducing…stunning super sleuthing…still with Doc Robbins for autopsy on vic ~ ICK"_

"_I dance better than Al ~ JB"_

"_Keep your day job, twinkle toes. TTYL ~ ICK"_

Jim shoved the phone in his pocket with a satisfied chuckle. He'd let her enjoy the 3D autopsy up close and personal without sharing the full details that Glamazon was now in the slamazon.

Doc Robbins looked at Iris while he closed the Y-shaped incision on Wu. "Texting during an autopsy?"

"I'm swapping insults with Brass," Iris sighed and closed the phone.

"That would be flirting to him," Doc cautioned with a wink.

"No chance of that. He's probably getting his jollies at the notion I'm attending an autopsy. Little does he know I find them interesting and don't get sick over them because I've been a _Quincy_ fan since forever," Iris laughed thinly. "Thanks for letting me observe the post-mortem. I've got an errand to do."

X X X X X

Nick was walking by Brass' office and caught an intoxicating aroma. He stuck his head in the open door. Jim was in the middle of finishing a taco. "What's on the menu?"

"Brisket BBQ soft shell tacos, refried beans and rice, and I just finished the last one…finger lickin' good," Brass said with a satisfied belch.

"Iris struck again?" Nick asked casually as he leaned against the door frame.

"Why do you say she did? I could've brought this on the way in," Jim snorted.

"'Cause I know how the brisket ones she makes smell, I've gotten to eat them for myself, they rock," Nick grinned.

"Well, she struck again and I plan to have a chat with the night janitor," Brass admitted and cleared his desk of the paper refuse into the wastebasket. He pumped some hand sanitizer into his hands to clean off the BBQ taco residue.

"Aw, let it go, Brass man, she just likes to do nice things for us all. It's her way of saying she cares as a friend," Nick said.

"Okay, okay, I won't say anything to the janitor," Brass gave in.

"I gotta get back to Langston. He's made some rookie mistakes but so far so good," Nick said and left.

"Rookies," Jim grunted aloud to himself. He turned on his stereo before he started on his case paperwork for the Ivan Wu homicide. Being around Iris had rubbed off on him in that he more frequently had music playing at home or in the car and here at work. He could even tolerate random country songs. A faint knock on his door caused him to look up with a pronounced scowl. Now what?

Iris took a few slow steps in. "Hey, I was going to see if you wanted to get breakfast later but I still smell the tacos."

"Uh, yeah, I just finished those a while ago but I'll have to pass on the breakfast offer," Jim politely declined as he'd done repeatedly.

Iris cocked her head slightly as her ear caught the song now playing on his stereo. Her facial expression struck him when she said slowly, "That's an ironic song, isn't it?"

He turned to hear what she was talking about and listen to the song.

"_Take time to realize/That your warmth is crashing down on in/Take time to realize/That I am on your side/Didn't I, Didn't I tell you/But I can't spell it out for you/No, it's never gonna be that simple/No, I can't spell it out for you." _

He glanced back and Iris was gone. Jim was suddenly cognizant that something in her muted facial expression conveyed it was the last time she'd ask him to enjoy a meal with her. She hadn't said her customary some other time then.

"_Take time to realize/Oh-oh I'm on your side/Didn't I, didn't I tell you/Take time to realize/This all can pass you by/But I can't spell it out for you/No its never gonna be that simple/No I can't spell it out for you."_

Brass pulled out his wallet and took out the 1904 US liberty twenty-dollar gold piece that he always carried with him. It had been given to him on his wedding day by his father. His dad had been given that very gold piece the same way by Brass' grandfather. All of his wallets carried the outline of the coin that looked exactly like a condom ring for which he'd gotten his fair share of ribbing about from Grissom.

He continued to listen to the song.

"_It's not the same/No it's never the same/If you don't feel it to/If you meet me half way/If you would meet me half way/It could be the same for you/If you just realize what I just realized/Then we'd be perfect for each other/And we'll never find another/Just realize what I just realized/We'd never have to wonder/Just realize what I just realized/If you just realize what I just realized/Oh missed out on each other now/Missed out on each other now/Realize…"_

Brass closed his eyes for several moments as he reflected on the song's lyrical content in the context of Iris' abrupt departure. He took a hard look at the gold coin before spontaneously flipping it in the air and it landed to spin several times on the desk before it fell on its side with a metallic thud. Jim leaned forward to look at the coin, gazed heavenward a moment, and with a heavy sigh leaned back in his chair. Who was he to tempt Fate?


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Iris' insides were churning in an emotional maelstrom as she strode out to the Excursion, grateful she didn't encounter Nick or Catherine. The morning promised to be bright and cheery, the polar opposite of how she felt right now. She climbed in behind the wheel and started the diesel engine. Iris groaned at how she had left Jim's office and now berated herself out loud for nearly asking Brass on a date outright. The Excursion's dark tinted windows would allow her the privacy to have a little chat with herself. Let the self-lecture begin!

"Iris, you coward, what you should've done is offered yourself up as a sacrificial virgin on the altar of Jim Brass' desk. That's the twist of it because you'd qualify as one! You come to Vegas and put your heart in your hand and threw it like dice. You bet your best qualities and came up snake eyes in craps. What a romantic fool you are and doomed to remain! You'll never be Jim Brass' type so take your dose of reality like a good girl. Be the good worker bee you always are and swallow the false hopes you had and assume the role you're best at, being friend to all of the male persuasion and lover of none."

It was as good a pep talk as she could manage. She wouldn't cave into the impulse to have a good cry over it. That would come later at home during a chick flick moviethon with a gallon of Dutch chocolate ice cream and rice krispies. Home, she sighed to herself, she'd wanted it to be Vegas and she'd wanted a relationship with Brass that had germinated from a warm friendship into something stronger and permanent. Yes, she would dare in spite of being a romantic fool to keep hoping one day would happen in a place of which there were at least fifty in downtown Vegas alone with nuptials held nearly round the clock.

Iris put the Excursion in reverse and started to slowly back out. Years of living in Dallas had taught her not to just pull out suddenly. Too many drivers prone to zipping through the parking lot without a warning honk or heaven forbid slow down at all had her witness her share of fender benders. Now was no different she saw as a dark blue or perhaps black car came past the rear view mirror and she hit the brake just in time. She gave a confirming honk to show she was aware of the other driver and waited. Upon checking her driver side mirror to see if the other car had safely passed, she was a bit peeved to see the car was stopped, effectively blocking her in. Iris was generally a patient soul but given the events of the last hour she was not in a frame of mind to wait. She honked again and waved her arm out the window to signal the other driver to proceed. The car remained stationary and to urge the other driver on, she put the Excursion in reverse again and backed out until it was nearly nudging the other car. The other driver refused to move so Iris hit her horn again and let it blast several seconds. That did it because the driver's door of the other car opened. That's just great, she thought, now to trade words with a stranger to cap her morning. She sat and waited with eyes staring straight ahead. The other person had better be reasonable or be prepared to deal with what she called her prickly side.

The other driver rapped knuckles on the driver's side window of the Excursion and waited expectantly for Iris to lower her window. She clicked on the button and the electric window smoothly lowered as she turned to address the other car's driver. The dark sunglasses concealed the other person's appraising squint that showed in frustratingly familiar peripheral crinkle lines. She faced off with the other driver for several seconds and said coldly, "Move your car so I can go home."

"You're coming with me," she was told instead.

"Where? To say hello to Triana at her place or something warped like a threesome? Not interested," Iris snapped sarcastically, then cringed inside. It wasn't like her to be that way, but her pride was smarting.

"I don't blame you for taking that shot but like it or not you're still coming with me," Jim reiterated.

Blast him, Iris thought, why'd he have to wear his shades? They only enhanced and intensified the unique physical and mental mix that made Brass who he was and further bestowed a dangerous rougish look. Her Irish was in warp drive and she was in no mood to go along with whatever Brass had in mind. "Fine, I'll just take a taxi home. You can give it a police escort if that melts your chocolate. I'm tired and still have a case to finish with you and all I want to do right now is get a shower and collapse in bed!"

She rolled up the window, opened the door, clicked her key fob to lock the SUV and engage its alarm. As Iris went past him, he grabbed her wrist while body pinning her to the vehicle, taking her keys with their plastic-cased quarters jingling madly from her hand. Her look of pure shock was just what he wanted as he unlocked the Excursion and reached in to pull out a small duffle bag from the back seat.

"I remember you're saying you keep a change of clothes on hand after Greg told you about him and Sara once having to take a Hazmat shower together. Maybe that'll happen for us, let's go," Brass said smugly and locked the Excursion up.

"You're outrageously overconfident about whatever scheme you're trying to hatch, but I'm not going anywhere with you," Iris spat irately. She pushed her butt hard against him, causing him to utter a faint grunt of "oof" while trying in vain to dig her heels into asphalt to stop his herding her relentlessly to the Charger.

"Vicks, I'm in control here, you're not winning this round. We're going to have a private chat away from other ears and it may require an overnight stay," Brass chortled menacingly.

Overnight stay? Somewhere by themselves! Iris nearly went into a panic but kept her head.

"I don't know what in blazes you've got cooking but you're delusional if you think I'm voluntarily getting into your car!" Iris fumed and braced her foot against the left rear tire of the Excursion, still pushing back at Brass and forcing him to stop.

"You've got two options, get in like a lady or I'm putting you over my shoulder caveman-style and tossing your sweet ass in the back seat. You've got till the count of three," Brass warned her.

"You wouldn't dare!" Iris retorted icily and faced him, call her "sweet ass" would he?

"One," he growled.

"We're in a parking lot! I'll scream "fire" at the top of my lungs!" Iris vowed.

"Two," Jim rumbled.

"You don't have the stones and if you don't want a kick where Triana's been, turn me loose!" Iris threatened angrily, brown eyes snapping sparks.

"Three," Brass exploded, patience ended, and Iris found herself lifted up like a sack of horse feed and thrown over his shoulder.

"Jim Brass, you put me down!" Iris squealed in fury.

Jim deftly opened the passenger rear door and dumped her unceremoniously in the back seat. "Your wish is my command milady."

"You colossal schmuck!" Iris barked in rage at him. He simply shut the door, knowing the child locks were in place for the rear doors. She couldn't get out unless she tried climbing over the console between the bucket seats. Jim silently recommended she not attempt that.

Nick had come out briefly to retrieve an evidence envelope he'd left by accident in his Avalanche and had watched in disbelief as Brass lifted Iris like she weighed nothing and put her in his back seat like she was a sack of potatoes. He was unsettled by the tableau and decided to check things out. Nick was about halfway there when Jim saw him. Iris saw him too and waved frantically for his help.

"Hold it, Nick, this don't involve you," Jim put his hand up in a stop-right-there motion.

"It does when I see Iris being treated bad and I won't stand for that even if it's you, Brass man," Nick objected and squared his shoulders, he had two or three inches on Brass easy.

"She's fine, madder than a wet hen, but fine," Jim promised.

"So what's going on? I don't get a woman upset if I can help it," Nick commented.

"You could say I'm taking Iris against her will," Brass divulged slyly with a wink that caught Nick by surprise.

"I dunno, Jim, is that wise to say to me? Could be interpreted as kidnapping, you know," Nick said in a worried tone.

"My intentions are honorable even though it looks anything but at the moment. Trust me, Nick, Iris will be totally safe in these capable hands," Brass reassured him with outstretched hands.

"She's gonna be sore I didn't help her, but swear you'll treat her okay," Nick insisted.

"I swear on a stack of invisible Bibles," Brass pledged.

Iris watched Nick give her an "I tried" look before he walked out of sight along with her last chance at freedom. Brass saw her expression before her eyes met his and she averted her face. Lord, she's PO'd, Brass thought, but she'd see his way of thinking or so he hoped.

He opened the front passenger door. "Now, if you're ready to be reasonable and not act like a spoiled brat, I'd like you to ride shotgun with me."

"Spoiled brat? Buster, you've got some major 'nads….," Iris seethed at him.

"Do I need to count again?" he asked with a pointing finger.

Iris' lips clamped in a tight line, suppressing a string of sarcastic retorts lined up like arrows in a quiver she wanted to let fly.

"That's better and, yes, I do have major ones," Brass said with a brittle snicker and hit the unlock button on the passenger front door. Iris got out from the back seat, her eyes shooting daggers at him while she seated herself in the front and Jim shut the door. He liked a challenge he told himself again.

Iris sat still as a statue and as mute as one while he drove the Charger out of the LVPD parking lot. She waited nearly ten minutes before she said, "I need to go home to take care of the dogs."

"No, you don't because you'll call Brian next door to house-sit for you," Jim instructed.

"Look, I can't do that because I have only one change of clothes to work in and don't think for a New York minute I'm staying somewhere overnight with you," Iris declared, trying to sound firm, but her voice quavered slightly. Brass had her nervous and he knew it when he smiled that wolfish smile.

"Any woman whoever had the privilege of my company overnight was left better than I found her," he boasted smugly.

"You're a legend in your own mind," Iris said exasperated and threw her hands up.

"We're going to my place where you know I've got more than one bedroom so don't fret about your virtue," he chuckled with a roguish wink.

Iris' brows threatened to shoot off her forehead at the words "your virtue." "We still have our case to finish or have you forgotten?"

"Both your forensic and Doc's autopsy findings will dovetail in with what the casino surveillance and parking lot videos revealed that Glamazon went after Wu when she, or he, depending on your point of view, and a cast can be made of his teeth to compare to the bite on Wu's hand. Robbery was the motive. Vartann's agreed to finish the case details for me because I requested off urgent for personal reasons," Brass informed her.

"Well, rank has its privileges but I won't do that to Catherine not even for you, so end this little prank of yours and take me back. I promise no hard feelings," Iris tried sincerely to bargain with him.

"Rich told Catherine he was available to help her due to your sudden need to be absent to which Catherine agreed to as a favor to me. You're going to be on R-N-R for 24 to 48 hours with moi," Brass grinned dangerously at her.

"You just went from colossal to supreme schmuck. How could you do that to me without asking? You have no reason to let alone the right!" Iris was annoyed and trying to make sense of what Jim was doing.

"I have my reasons, Vicks; see I don't call in a favor unless I have to. I took the steps I had to so you're being able to be off as my guest," Brass said.

"You're being vague for my continued benefit?" she asked coolly.

"For now," he said.

"Either way I'm your prisoner it seems," Iris said with a sigh of resignation.

"I'm hoping you won't see it that way and look back at what happens today fondly," Jim said.

"I doubt it," Iris muttered to herself.

"What?" Brass said.

"I said count on it," Iris fabricated blithely.

"Nice," Brass said having her heard her original utterance.

The Charger pulled into the driveway and Jim had no so sooner parked when Iris slugged him in the right arm as hard as she could with her right hand balled into a fist and middle finger knuckle extended.

"Hey, what the…," Jim yelped, swearing under his breath and rubbing his biceps area in pain.

"What the hey is what I should be saying. What's with this drama, Jim? Throwing my "sweet ass" as you called it in your car?" You better have some handcuffs ready or better yet boxing gloves, pal," Iris warned defensively with upraised fists.

"Could you dial it down a notch? I'm making this up as I go along," Jim said and his discomfort from where she'd hit him was clear in his face.

"Okay, sorry, I frogged you, I'm still irked," Iris was truly contrite as she got her duffle bag out of the back seat and followed him in.

Iris saw in the chess set in his living room. "You didn't reset the pieces."

"The game's not finished, I don't know if I win yet," he said with a thin smile.

He sat down in his recliner and she took her familiar position in the love seat near him. Iris had to know and know now. "Why am I here? You said you were making it up as you went along."

"A coin flip brought you here…kind of appropriate for Vegas, isn't it?" Jim said quietly.

"A coin flip?" Iris echoed with a furrowed brow.

Jim opened his wallet and handed her the gold piece, following it with the story of its marital tie to three generations of Brass males. "I thought this was going to bring me luck in my marriage…look how that turned out."

"Did you choose head or tails?" Iris asked neutrally as she inspected the coin.

"I listened to that song when you were standing in the doorway and how your face looked and then you just left. Not your usual saying some other time when I declined eating out with you or even saying good-bye, then it hit me you wouldn't be asking again. I tossed the coin and if it hit tails I didn't make a move and if it was heads I was out the door," Jim said while Iris gave him the coin back.

"It was heads then given what followed," Iris noted.

"No, it was tails and I wasn't about to let a coin make my decisions," he replied with a bitter chuckle.

"Okay, good to know, I guess," Iris said, "but why am I here?"

"You scare me," Brass said and the scrutiny of his blue-eyed gaze at her was intense.

Iris shook her head dumbly at what he'd said and blanched, trying to understand what he'd just said. "How could _**I**_ scare _**you**_?"

"Because of what's going on here…vis a vis… between us," Jim said slowly with a back and forth gesture of his hand.

She felt her heart constrict and throat go dry, while at the same time a little flame of hope burned, but she had to be realistic for both their sakes. "We're friends, Jim, better friends in fact here of late. I'm not your type, remember, so no worries."

"Exactly…at least that's what I kept telling myself…but I can't be a detective and ignore some compelling evidence," he tried to reason even now.

"You shouldn't be scared then, there's no cause to be," Iris tried to gently disagree.

"Yeah, Iris, there is, I don't want it to go toxic between us," Jim stated and there was fear both in his voice and in his eyes.

"T-t-toxic?" Iris stammered on the word, trying to gauge its import.

"I've been fine with keeping my involvement with a woman superficial and brief. I don't get attached so no regrets. We have some fun and great sex for a while, and then go our separate ways. I told myself after Triana that I wouldn't allow something more with any woman at Metro or the crime lab. I keep it friendly but casual. Now before you say it, there's an exception for Catherine and Sara, who are family to me," Brass revealed with a fond look at the mention of those names.

"Are you afraid I'm trying to encroach on that exception somehow? We're content as friends, you now," Iris kept her voice neutral, not wanting to cause him distress. He'd unknowingly flattened the emotional walls she'd kept her heart a fortress in, but he'd never know what this neutrality was costing her.

"You didn't encroach, Iris, you blew past what I'd set as my safe zone," he said and continued. "You're not my type and that's what scares me…scared of messing it up before it even gets started…like making ground rules about seeing each other. You're the kind of woman who'd be there every day no matter what, could love a guy for who he is, maybe that for better or for worse type. I'm daring to hope again, that's why you scare me."

He wearily pulled his tie off and unbuttoned his shirt to open the collar.

"Iris, what do you see?" he gave the living room a sweeping motion with his hand.

"Your home, of course," Iris replied with raised brows.

"No, you see a house, the place where I live, but it's not a home. It wasn't a home until there was singing in the kitchen, laughing at a John Wayne DVD, wrestling in the back yard till we got muddy, putting up with me when I was a cranky and sick, giving me great food and back massages and never asking a thing in return. I found I missed it, all of it, missed you're being here. I've been a starving man and didn't know it," he spoke softly.

"So you carry me off like this instead of just inviting me to breakfast which could've saved you the trouble," Iris tried to tease gently.

"Better than a hotel room, which would've been dangerous enough, I can control myself," Jim replied to reassure himself more than Iris, but he wasn't sure if here was safe either.

"It's acknowledged then that we have more than friendly feelings betwixt us," Iris speculated tentatively.

"There you go with your weird words! Well, I do and thought you did to or did I already touch the toxic button," Brass said with a weary snort.

Iris responded by getting up from the love seat and leaning over so that her face touched his while slowly rubbing noses with him, their lips nearly touching, her soft breath on his cheek as her nose slowly traced the outline of his own repeatedly. She let her tongue make faint intermittent contact with his skin to make a moist trail while she tasted the subtle saltiness of it. Her eyes were shut while she did this, and Brass' were closed too as he relished in the sensations. She let instinct guide her for what she didn't know firsthand, wondering if Brass' type included a preference for the female being the initiator of intimate activities. Still, she wasn't even to first base yet in this game of loving.

When Iris drew back slightly, he protested, "Hey, hey, hey, what the…? That ain't no kiss!"

"Hey, hey, hey, that was an Eskimo kiss and you got the very intense French version of it," she replied with a soft giggle.

Brass scowled at her, "Sorry, I only go for this type!" He pulled her onto the recliner with Iris finding that he preferred kissing that was slow and intensely French and had the potential to last for days.

"So think I could get to be your type?" Iris said softly after a while of exploring her abilities to make out, especially after moving from the recliner to the nearby couch proved to accommodate them beneficially.

"You have potential," he replied huskily against her neck.

"I know I'm not anything like Triana or the other ladies you've been with. I'm a low rider by comparison physically," Iris lamented with a self-deprecating chuckle while turned on her side with him behind her.

"You told me I needed to expand my horizons back when and I know I'll benefit from wising up. You're shorter than me so you can look up to me," he grinned.

"Oh, funny one, ha," Iris grumbled with an elbow poke in his ribs.

"Look, you know Triana's history and that chemistry is also passé. What makes you you is what got my attention, so let it go, no more Triana references," Brass told her so that she'd exorcise any notions that Triana lingered like a specter.

Jim suddenly got up and went to his chess set, taking Iris by the hand to follow him. He studied the game for several moments and leaned down to move his king that took and captured Iris' queen. She gave a startled gasp, "Blast, check mate."

"Symbolic in how the game concluded, don't you think?" Jim said archly while he held up the two chess pieces.

"Cheesy but you could say that…when was it I had your attention?" Iris asked while she went to the couch. He followed and got her snuggled up to him.

"I gotta apologize first," he began and hesitated.

"What in the world for?" Iris was curious.

"When you were in your living room just slow dancing in the candle light to the songs, I called it a show. I actually found it innocent, sexy, erotic and arousing as hell all at once, way better than any pole or lap dancer I was ever with. I wanted to be the person you wanted to be with that way. I want that kind of night with you," he disclosed quietly.

Iris found she was speechless at hearing this and formulated a non-verbal response. She turned his left hand palm up and began a slow trek of small open-mouthed wet kisses of each fingertip down the shaft of the digit and to the palm itself where lazy slow circles were made. Brass inhaled sharply as her head finally moved from the palm to the inside of his wrist where she continued this activity that was giving Brass a…well…intense physical reaction. Manners be hanged if she kept this up, he couldn't be responsible for what might follow; it might be too soon for her but not him. He stopped her and took her face between his hands. She looked up confused – had she done wrong?

"What're you doing?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Giving you a hickey, I think?" Iris replied after several moments.

Brass thought what a fool David had been. He'd had someone like this and sneered at the opportunity. She had this freshness…newness…innocence at what she was doing with him. Could it be she was making this up as she went along? He wasn't sure what to term it. It was a sort of devotion that touched him, and he vowed it wouldn't be wasted with him. "Careful, Iris, this could escalate."

"You're getting turned on, hot and bothered, ants in your pants, aroused to the point of no return, worked up by me?" Iris' expression of true amazement he found sad and exciting in the same instant, hearing her surprise she could elicit that in a man but that it had been reserved for him by some act of providence.

"Yes, in a BIG way, if you get my drift," Brass said and sat up quickly.

"Well, I want the whole package," she declared boldly.

"Uh, do you know what you're asking for?" Brass asked sharply.

"Yes, I want the deluxe, top of the line, not to be found in stores or online or a limited TV offer, no holds barred, big Jim Brass love package. Can you deliver?" Iris said slowly and deliberately while rubbing noses with him as she had before.

"Have you talked to Rene?" Jim's tone was slightly hoarse again.

"No, not since I had my fencing lesson that you interrupted, why?" Iris queried curiously and her head titled slightly. The familiar gesture made Brass smile which heightened her curiosity because she didn't understand why he smiled.

"There was a disagreement about package and delivery issues, but to answer your question I'm like UPS 24/7 where you're concerned," he replied and patted her hand on his belt buckle.

"Oh…good to know…there may be a problem," Iris said in a small voice, Brass noting her hand hadn't moved.

"Like what?" It was Jim's turn to be curious.

"I'm a honeymoon kind of girl so does that disappoint you?" Iris said softly. She steeled herself, understanding that she might fall short of truly being the answer to his wants and needs.

"No, I'm not because I think you're worth that, so I better get used to cold showers," Brass replied with a faint grin, surprising himself more than her.

"Are you hungry?" Iris changed the subject, not sure of where things were headed, and she was truly famished.

"Yeah, now that you mention it, you want to go somewhere?" Brass said, wondering what caused her to radically change the gears of the conversation.

"I can make something here," Iris said and headed to the kitchen.

"Look, aside from the first class cooking you bestow on me, I eat out mostly so I doubt you'll find anything promising," Jim cautioned, hearing drawers opening, the pantry door that opened with a squeak he kept meaning to oil the hinges of, the fridge opening up, pots and pans rattling, before he went in himself.

"I'm going to make Chinese stir-fry using chopped fish filets with vegetables and rice, how's that?" she announced, assembling frozen fish, peas and carrots, with a box of long grain wild rice.

"I don't have a wok," Jim said.

"That's okay, I can woll with a saucepan," she quipped.

He caught in his arms right then before she could become the whirling dervish in the kitchen he knew she'd be in a moment. His gaze became intent coupled with the serious tone in his voice, "Iris."

She gave him her full attention. "Sir?"

"When we're done eating, I want to take you somewhere that's special to me. Will you come?" he asked and she heard the little boy hope in his voice that also shined in his eyes.

"I'm in your hands. Where you go I go also," she said, her hand patting his chest.

"You don't have much of a choice," he said, kissing her hand, as Iris felt a third-degree blush come on.

She had to admit later it was an inspired brunch she whipped up when Brass asked for a second and third helping. The dishwasher was engaged when he told her it was time to go. She was tired but adrenaline was keeping her going at this point.

**Chapter Sixteen**

The Charger was headed east on highway 564 in Henderson as Iris looked to see a Wal-Mart looming in the distance. He'd packed his own canvas bag with clothes and toiletries, but Brass nodded to himself good idea. "Last chance for you to make a run for it, Iris."

"No way, you're making this up as you go along, remember, so you're stuck with me," she grinned.

"I think a stop at Wally World's in order for your benefit. Get what you need for an overnight stay and keep an open mind for activities," he instructed cryptically.

"That helps a lot," she frowned at him but took the challenge.

He was convinced they'd be there for hours, thinking she had to roam every part of the store. They left in less than thirty minutes. She'd gone to find a bathing suit, two Capri pants and three tops she could mix-and-match, cotton undies and sports bras, mauve baby doll pajamas and a matching terry cloth robe. After that, they went to the grocery section to get miscellaneous food and drink items.

As they went through the checkout line manned by a young Hispanic woman who grinned at them, saying, "Looks like you and your husband have a romantic getaway to the lake planned."

Iris' eyebrows rose fractionally but she deferred to see what Jim's response might be and who was paying. She dug through her backpack purse to get her wallet.

"Yeah, a getaway is just what we need, isn't it, honey?" Jim replied while he used his own credit card, slipping his other arm around Iris' waist.

"That's the fastest shopping trip I've ever had with a woman," he said impressed as they walked out to the Charger.

"Ah, I'm an atypical female when it comes to shopping. I just want to go in and get what I need and get out," she revealed, putting on her sunglasses, before adding. "You should've let me pay for my stuff, Jim."

"No, Iris, you may have extended use of what you picked out," Jim said and his continued vagueness only made Iris' curiosity heighten and he knew it.

"Oh, blast and hang it, I forgot something!" she exclaimed with a smack to her forehead when they were back on the road.

"What? We're already on the way, is it crucial?" Jim grumbled.

"Yes, I forgot the mace," she replied seriously.

"Mace? To use on who, me?" he retorted.

"No to protect you if I get frisky," she said, face inscrutable, behind her sunglasses.

Brass for once was speechless for at least a minute before she heard a chuckling rumble in his chest that rolled into hearty laughter before he reached in his pocket and pulled out a bandana to give her. "Iris, so I can keep this surprise going, would you blindfold yourself?"

She looked at him several moments before she shrugged, folded the bandana, removed her sunglasses and tied it in place. "Okies, Captain Brass, I'll continue to be a good sport."

As they drove on, Jim had her play a guessing game of where they were bound and she rattled off camping, fishing trip, a forest wedding chapel run by Yogi Bear, experiencing the submarine races at the lake – which she had to explain meant serious parking - a redneck honky-tonk where she'd teach him to do a proper 2-step, skinny dipping after the sun went down in some discrete spot on Lake Mead. She said each thing in such an earnest fashion he kept cracking up at her dry wit and sly sense of humor that he had come to appreciate more and more.

She noted by ear the car was now on a gravel road after turning from the paved road surface and though curiosity fiercely goaded her, the blindfold remained in place as promised. The car stopped at last.

"Iris, I'll come to your side and help you out, no peeking now," Brass instructed.

"No peeking," Iris nodded.

He helped her out of the car, approving of how attentive she remained in spite of the blindfold. Her nostrils flared slightly as she took deep breaths to take in a variety of scents, her head cocked slightly as she heard birds chirping in the distance, the smell of nearby water, a pungent tree scent in the breeze.

Jim removed the blindfold and waited, holding his own breath to see how she reacted.

In front of them was a modest-sized wood cabin with a wraparound porch concealed in the midst of a large grove of mainly pine trees that provided dappled shade for it. Iris' hands flew to mouth as Jim heard a small "oh" of surprise. "I…I…I know this place…Jim, is this yours?"

"Yeah," he grinned proudly. "What do you think?"

"It's beautiful, you can't see the cabin from the drive, you are so blessed," Iris said as she continued to take in the scenery as well as the cabin.

"Come on, I'll give you the tour of Chateau du Brass," he said with a fair French accent.

"A man's home is his castle," added Iris as she followed.

The cabin had three bedrooms and one bathroom, a kitchen with an adjoining living room. A stackable washer-dryer were in a tiny utility area off the kitchen. The furnishings throughout were rustic but comfortable. Iris found herself falling for the place as fast as she had its owner. "Jim, I love it, you have your own private forest, and you're close to the lake, wow."

"I was hoping you liked the place," Jim said with a little crooked smile.

"You knew I would from the picture test! How'd you get it? I mean I didn't see any other cabins," Iris queried, plopping down in an overstuffed arm chair.

"And you won't. We're just past the Echo Bay RV area for campers. The original property owner has all the land that makes up the marina, RV parking and camping site, and other businesses had this cabin and planted the pine trees probably a hundred years ago," Jim told her and continued. "The place stayed in that family until the only child of the last owner, her daughter, was killed in Vegas twelve years ago in a carjacking. I was the homicide detective on the case. I followed it for three years before I nailed the scumbag. The old lady died three years later and she left this to me in her will out of gratitude it said. It pissed off some of her relatives who wanted all of the property. I got offered outrageous money to sell it but I refused. Life's funny," Brass told her.

"Was it just like this?" Iris asked.

"Hell no, it was a total wreck inside. No one had lived here in years. I'd come out here on weekends to do remodeling work or invite Gil to come help if he could. It was a total buddy project," Jim recalled with a fond smile. "All of the CSI's have used this place one time or another."

"It's a wonderful getaway spot, I bet you've had some company here," Iris teased softly.

"Not as much as you think. I come here mainly to fish and relax. One day I plan to retire here," he shrugged. "Come on, let's get the car unpacked."

They'd opted to take a power nap that lasted two hours with each of them resting in separate bedrooms. Iris' cell phone alarm woke her up ahead of Jim, by plan, so she could quietly start cooking dinner and surprise him. She was working on skillet fried potatoes when Brass walked in rubbing his eyes after waking up.

"Hey, I should be making you dinner!" he protested.

"You can have me for dessert," Iris blurted but covered her mouth with a towel as a faint rosy blush blossomed on her cheeks.

"Well, that's food for thought," Jim said reflectively, stabbing a potato cube with a fork to sample ahead of time.

The meal also included BLT and cheese wraps with a brownie ala mode for dessert. "It's simple fare, Jim," she commented as she cleared the table.

"Simple, bull, I feasted better than someone eating the priciest meal in Vegas. I have my own personal chef, right?" he said optimistically.

"I'm ever at your service," she said with a hand over her heart.

"It's almost dusk, time for the light show," he beckoned cryptically with a crooked forefinger as he went outside.

Iris followed and he took a seat in the porch swing, patting the spot beside him for her to sit. There was a gorgeous sunset before them as the setting sun sparkled on the lake nearby. Eastern streaks of crimson orange and deep fiery red contrasted with the western sky approaching with its purple-blue mantle. As the day ceded to night, Jim pointed to the high grass growing away from the cabin beneath the pine trees. "Watch," he said in a low voice.

In the tall grass as the sky lost the last of the sun and the stars became masters of the heavens, tiny flashes of yellow light began to emerge from the grass and began floating in a lazy haphazard dance in the cooling night air. Jim used his ever-present lighter to start a propane camping lantern beside him to provide low-level light on the porch.

"Lightning bugs," Iris said with a child's wonder.

"Fireflies," Jim grinned at her. "Did you catch 'em as a kid?"

"Yes, I'd keep them in a jar, until my brother Mike would smash them later to see what made them glow," Iris recalled nostalgically.

"Yeah, my brother and I did the same thing," Brass confessed with a faint chuckle.

"Looks like it's starting to cloud up," Iris commented at the thickening dark clouds in the distance. "Think it might rain?"

"Maybe, I didn't listen to the weather today, had other things on my mind," he replied, his arm slipping behind her to keep her close. "Now what?"

"We could play chess or watch a DVD," Iris suggested.

"Or fool around?" he murmured against her neck.

"Let's see what happens," Iris said with a faint sigh, her head turned further to let his exploration of her neck continue.

It turned into a movie night for them with a double feature of Iris' choice of "Cinderella Man" and his of "Mystery, Alaska." By the ending credits, Iris was yawning on Jim's shoulder when he casually asked, "So what are our sleeping arrangements to be?"

Iris thought several seconds before she replied, "For now his and hers."

"I'll need time to take a cold shower," he complained with a faint laugh.

She looked up at him and saw the humorous but challenging glint in his eyes, so she decided to strike preemptively and give him cause to take that cold shower. It only took one soft kiss to the corner of his mouth do him in as he pulled her onto his lap to follow up what she'd initiated with more of the same activity. They parted at last to head to bed, but each feeling a cold shower wouldn't begin to put out what was simmering between them yet it was left unsaid. After a final lengthy good night kiss, he closed the door to her room with a heavy inward sigh to walk slowly to his room next to hers.

Two hours later the cabin literally shook from the sound of thunder, bringing Jim out of an already restless sleep to sit up straight in bed wide awake. A heavy rain was in progress, the drops hitting the window like someone tossing pebbles against the glass. The wind was like a low howl as it picked up. He reached for the small light on the end table, glad to see the power was still on and that he didn't have to go start up the gas generator. His next concern was to check on Iris who he was sure would be frightened, but it'd been uncanny to him how she felt it would rain.

He knocked on the door, "Iris?" No answer. He knocked again and repeated, "Iris?" No response. Jim slowly opened the door because he feared waking her up if she was a sound sleeper or unbeknownst to him she slept au natural which was a sight he wasn't averse to seeing. His curiosity about that was off the charts as it was. He knew some people who could probably sleep through a nuclear strike. It was dark but he saw the curtains to the window pulled open as another lightning strike turned the outside electric blue for a moment. Iris was sitting in a chair by the window as she watched the dazzling storm outside. He made his way to her, nearly tripping on one corner of the bed and stubbing his left big toe. Iris heard the commotion and was startled reaction but masked her surprise well. She turned to help him steady himself as another blast of lightning lit the room up. "Jim, oh me, are you okay?"

"No, dammit," he said in obvious discomfort, rubbing at his foot.

She turned on the lamp by the bed, it was a 3-way bulb and on the lowest setting to bathe just the bed in a soft white light. Jim stretched himself on the bed with a stifled groan. Iris turned her attention to his toe and gently checked its range of motion. "It's not broken but will likely bruise, so you'll be sore a few days. I've got some Advil if you want it."

"Thank you for your diagnosis, Dr. King," Brass grunted.

"I guess the storm woke you up but what made you come here? Hold that thought while I bring you an ice pack," Iris said.

She was gone five minutes and returned with a zip lock sandwich bag with ice cubes to carefully place on his toe. Her head was bent to the task and her seriousness made him chuckle while at the same time realizing her care and concern for him was genuine. She'd also given him two Advil tablets and a bottled water to wash them down with. It caused a confusing jumble of emotions inside of him. The storm picked up in its intensity outside, but Brass was starting to feel the same inside.

"The storm woke me up but I was sleeping lousy already. I came in to check on you, do the gentlemanly deed I guess," he remarked.

"I was up when I heard the first clap of thunder a ways off. I've loved to watch storms since I was a kid. I used to sleep like a rock but after what happened with Max I don't anymore. However, you do sleep like a rock, so why would you be sleeping lousy as you termed it?" Iris said with an inquisitive cock of her head. The soft light gave the effect of amber highlights in her dark eyes.

Brass found himself nearly shaking from clashing urges linked to strengthening feelings and the nearness to her that caused them all. Iris had snuggled herself against him, unaware or perhaps aware of what he was caught up in and it added to the delicious anticipation for what he wanted to happen.

"Darlin', how can I sleep? You make it impossible," he said in a low gravelly growl as he turned to gently pin her.

"Drat, why'd you have to sound like Tommy Lee Jones just then?" she sighed in his ear.

"Huh, the guy in "The Fugitive"?" he snorted.

"Yeah, you sounded like him when you called me darlin', and I found it kinda sexy," she giggled against his cheek.

"So you're saying you feel what'd you call it, frisky?" Brass wondered.

"How could any red-blooded American female feel otherwise within the confines of your arms?" she teased and peppered his jaw line with little smothery kisses until his lips intercepted hers.

The way they molded to one another gave Brass pause. He realized at this moment she'd completely give herself to him. They were on the cusp right now, teetering dangerously at that. He pulled back slightly and saw no hesitation in those warm doe-like eyes. Brass had never wanted someone as fiercely as he did right now.

"Iris, I don't want this to be just sex between us, I want more than that, I'm tired of quick gratification," he said in a voice raspy with desire.

She stroked his cheek with velvet fingertips that traveled with slow feathery strokes down his neck and to his chest to trace lazy patterns on his "hirsute-blessed" chest as she called it again, making him chuckle again at its nickname. The fingers of her right hand formed into a particular configuration to lie over his heart that he recognized from some of the signs she'd taught him besides the alphabet. She said the translation of it in a soft but resolute voice in his ear, making him hold her tightly to him and fearing he'd misheard her.

"I trust you, Jim, afraid you're stuck with me," she whispered.

"You know there're other ways we can enjoy ourselves," he said carefully, wanting to honor how she said she'd give herself wholeheartedly to "the one".

She gave him a long, searching look for several moments before a slow smile quirked at her lips. "Access granted."

Jim smiled back. As far as he was concerned they had all the time in the world and he was going to take full advantage of it. Brass wanted Iris to discover that the itch he had only she could scratch. His appetite was sharp and he savored whetting it with the mutual exploration ahead. Over the ensuing hours the conversation between them was an admixture of verbal and non-verbal with sighs and soft groans to inarticulate gasps. Brass discovered that Iris had spoken truly of when she'd be a nibbler or a nipper in relation to the body part in question and proving she was adept at knowing when to be one or the other.

At one point when he had Iris strategically positioned, she suddenly arched against him and exclaimed, "What are you trying to do? Put my hind end into convolutions of delight?"

Jim stopped his pursuit of happiness. No woman had ever said such a thing to him at least not in those terms. "Are you trying to talk dirty?"

"Is that a mood enhancer?" she inquired with a weak chuckle.

"Could be," he murmured before attacking the area of interest he'd been involved with.

At one point, he had Iris gasping, "Mama mia, you're a spicy meatball!"

More than once, Jim had them both laughing when he said, "Iris, where's the mace?"

The storm was a long one but barely rivaled the equivalent of what was happening in the cabin. Dawn was doing the changing of the color guard outside the bedroom window as the sky began to lighten. The wind and rain had moved on with the storm. Jim and Iris had finally fallen asleep in a blissful tangle of sheets; he was spooned behind her with an arm casually but possessively draped over her midsection.

Bright sunlight streamed into the room through a crack in the closed curtains that woke Iris up. She stretched out with a soft groan, finding that Brass wasn't there. She sat up with a yawn and her eyes widened. Had last night really happened or was it just a delicious dream? She'd settle for that delicious dream if she had to. Reaching for her robe thrown carelessly on the floor, she headed to the kitchen. Maybe Jim liked an early morning run or a walk, feeling that would work because she could surprise him with breakfast. But it was her turn to be surprised because he was already in the kitchen scrambling eggs in an iron skillet. Toast and bacon were already on plates on the table with coffee and orange juice.

"Mornin', darlin'," he drawled and grinned when Iris waved a hand to fan herself. Tommy Lee had nothing on Brass.

"You're bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, hon," she gazed up at him fondly.

"I slept like a baby," he stopped egg scrambling long enough to pull her in for an extended buss. "Take a seat, I got breakfast covered."

"So what's on the agenda today, boss?" she said between bites of the cinnamon sugar toast he made after he'd had informed her that she was the reason for his new favorite toast. Her calling him boss caused his wolfish grin that Iris knew she'd never tire of seeing.

"If I had a boat, we could explore the lake before it got too hot and get in some early fishing but we slept in," he lamented.

"Shucks, I thought I was the catch of the day," Iris grumbled with a pout.

"Babe, you are and I should know after access granted which I now count among my favorite words," he smirked.

"It was give and take, wasn't it?" she recalled with a shy look at him.

"It was hard to call it a night, that's for sure," Brass admitted with a smile of satisfaction.

"Are you proposing round two?" Iris asked with a suggestive raise of her eyebrows.

"Tempting offer but I figured we'd head back home and let the day just happen," he proposed with a rakish smile.

"Can you take me to one place then?" Iris asked softly.

"Sure, name it," he said and his mood was expansive.

"I'd like to visit Warrick's resting place to leave some flowers," she requested in a hushed voice.

"I'll take you, Iris," he nodded, realizing she'd never been to the cemetery with Nick.

X X X X X

The cemetery groundskeeper gave a disgusted look at the series of toppled headstones. It was happening more and more. He'd cited punk kids on a vandalism spree with sprayed graffiti, smashed or knocked over headstones, or in the extreme attempting to desecrate a grave by trying to dig up a body. That was usually around Halloween which was months away. His complaints to the city were met with token gestures of stepped up police patrols for a week or two, and the only interest generated from the public was when a TV news reporter showed up. He took pride in keeping the property immaculate for anyone coming to visit a loved one. Now was no different as he watched a dark Dodge Charger pull up in the drive that went throughout the cemetery and a man and woman get out with flowers. They were walking toward him when the man stopped upon seeing the crumbled headstone showing the name of a married couple.

"Kids?" he said to the groundskeeper, gesturing at the knocked over stone.

"Yeah, the city doesn't give a crap, I'll call it in anyway," the groundskeeper grunted.

"I'm Detective Jim Brass of the Metro PD. If you don't get a response, give me a call and I'll see if I can help," Jim introduced himself and gave him a business card.

The groundskeeper looked at it and then at Brass. "Homicide detective? Okay, I'll bite, whatever help you can give, thanks."

He tipped his cap at Iris and walked away.

"That happens in Dallas too. I'll never understand it," Iris said, shaking her head.

"Damn shame," Jim muttered as he took Iris' hand and continued to where Warrick's grave was.

Iris knelt to place the mixed arrangement of lilac (for memory), rosemary (for remembrance) and zinnia (thoughts of absent friends) by Warrick's headstone and of mixed roses by the headstone of Warrick's grandmother who had raised him. Her head was bowed and eyes closed for several moments. She stood up and kissed her fingers that brushed the top of the CSI's headstone.

Jim took out a smooth olive-green stone he'd found at the cabin and laid it on the top of Warrick's tombstone. He let out a heavy sigh. "I was one of his pallbearers. I haven't been back here until now. It's a Jewish tradition to leave a stone to show you visited and the deceased hasn't been forgotten. Rest in peace, Warrick, how I wish to God I'd said something different that last time."

His voice had gone ragged with regret, and he felt Iris' fingers twine with his as she pulled him close. It still hurt and the comfort she could offer she did silently but it was what he needed. Their quiet embrace lasted several minutes during which the feelings he'd kept under tight control since Warrick's murder came to the surface. It began with a dry sob that he tried to quell but Iris just rocked him back and forth like one did a child. His shoulders started to shake as convulsive sobs racked him. He leaned heavily on Iris and she continued to console him and whisper soothing words while he finally grieved in full and the ache of Warrick's loss abated somewhat. He'd never allowed himself to show it to anyone but Iris drew it out of him somehow. It was like opening a place deep inside that he'd walled off that could now start to heal. It cleansed his soul and a sense of release washed through him that it was a start. He felt tissues pressed into his hand as he wiped his eyes and blew his nose with a snort.

"The last time I cried like that it was about Ellie," he said thickly while Iris' left hand went to cup his cheek and her right displayed the sign over his heart she'd done the night before. He took that hand and kissed it softly. She seemed to look at him expectantly but he said nothing further. They returned to the Charger to leave, Jim telling Iris they'd come back in the near future.

Later that afternoon they were lounging in the canopy yard swing he'd just had placed by the koi pond. Jim told her about the last time he'd been with Warrick and what he'd said. "Iris, I want to let it go but I don't know how."

"You start by forgiving yourself. I believe you started the process there at his resting place. Maybe visit him when you're feeling that way again and leave a stone to remember the positive times between you. There'll come a day you won't have to leave one," Iris said simply. "I tell my grandmother hello every time I see a rainbow."

"Iris, I don't know what I'd do without you," he declared and she cheerfully rubbed noses with him.

She said needed to go into the house and would be right back. Iris was about 10 feet away when her cell phone rang. She shot him a look of surprise at the ring tone as he advanced on her as he stopped the call. "Still my ring tone?"

"Yes, why?" she asked cautiously.

He put his hands in her back pockets and pulled her to him. "Now you can say you've really got Brass in pocket," he said with a smirk before feasting on her lips.

"You know, it's ironic you're a homicide detective," Iris grumbled at him when he allowed them to come up for air.

"Why?" Brass arched a curious brow.

"Haven't you ever been told by the women you've been with that you've got lips that deliver a killer kiss?" Iris said tartly.

"No but still guilty on all counts, arrest me, please," Jim admitted with a wicked grin.

"Well, as long as it's only me doing the frisking and interrogating," Iris pulled him closer with her hands now possessively in his back pockets.

"With a whip and chains, strawberries and whipped cream?" Brass sounded hopeful.

"I'd opt for velvet lined handcuffs but you never know…it's us quiet ones you have to be careful about," Iris said coyly with a wink.

"Vicks, you gotta know women's hearts are breaking all over Vegas right now on account of you," Jim said down at her.

"They are? How come? And by the way, will you please quit calling me Vicks!" Iris griped with exasperation.

"Because of this," he said softly and placed his right hand with fingers in the shape of ILY over her heart while she let out a soft gasp of surprise when he whispered its meaning in her ear and added aloud. "I call you Vicks not spelled V-I-C-K-S but V-I-X because you remind me of a little fox in how you look intently at things."

"Like now?" Iris said tremulously, looking up at him with brimming eyes.

"Yeah, something like that," he smiled before his mouth sought hers.

"Jim, I hate to spoil this moment," she said against his lips.

"You won't," he assured her.

"I gotta whiz like a racehorse!" she announced with a slight grimace.

"While you're taking care of that business, I'll get started on cooking tonight so be ready to enjoy_ le parti de Restaurant de cuivre de deux,"_ he said with a slight bow and accented the eight words just right.

"Ah, French which I'm curious where you learned, but the meaning?" Iris inquired.

"Brass' Restaurant, party of two, is how it translates. I took French in high school and as language minor in college. I retained more than I thought I would. I was looking to get laid back then and impress the ladies with how suave I could be. Hindsight being twenty-twenty I shoulda took Spanish being here in Vegas," he confessed with a chuckle.

"You have moxie, mon capitan," Iris giggled before excusing herself to hit the bathroom.

X X X X X

It was just past dusk and Jim had gone outside to light bamboo tiki torches surrounding the screened-in patio and throughout the yard. He took in a deep breath of air as the cool evening breeze made the flames of the torches undulate hypnotically. Brass noted no difficulty to inhale deeply or exhale, grateful for the restoration of his general good health. Iris joined him a few minutes later and he sank into the double chaise lounge beside him. It was another new purchase of his since Iris had become a regular visitor. "Jim, I have to say again I loved the sloppy Joes, potato chips, macaroni and cheese, and salad you put together!"

"I _can_ cook, Iris, but that's your forte," Jim said deferentially.

"You know I'll be happy to cook for you as long as you like," Iris chuckled.

"What if I wanted you to do that permanently for me?" Brass asked, taking her hand in his.

"Oh, heavens, I'd be at your service….," Iris said lightly and her voice trailed off. Her face bore a stunned look and eyes full of questions.

Jim aimed the stereo remote on the table by him and music started to play before he said, "Come on, dance with me."

The song "Ain't No Woman Like the One I Got" was his choice as they began to slow dance very close.

"Darlin', that's a bona fide offer," he said soberly down at her. "You get shot and nearly die; well that changes your perspective on a lot of things. I know this…life's too short…and carpe diem's my new motto. I'm not letting something like this slip away."

"You haven't known me all that long," Iris tried to protest weakly.

"Like that's going to stop me. I've known others hardly at all and into the sack I'd go without a second thought. Look, we both said the biggest three little words to each other, right?" Jim said in a chiding tone.

"We have indeed," Iris nodded.

"I recall very clearly what you said to Catherine that day: 'l wanna be in love, I wanna wake up next to someone and see them smile. Do the whole Sunday breakfast thing, go out and get the paper, stay in bed together all day.' We've just about fulfilled that, wouldn't you say?" Jim nuzzled her cheek.

"Yes, it's just a lot to take in all once," Iris agreed, still trying to get her head around what Jim had just about _proposed_, an action she'd almost settled on not happening for her and with the right man.

"You've got me lock, stock and barrel, Iris! Do you want me to go down on bended knee? I will but it's not so great coming back up for an old dog like me," he said and began to follow through with that when Iris stopped him.

"Old dog, my foot, you're in your prime and the other night proved you'd be a bull in a china shop even though we didn't…er…you know. You'd have to lay odds on who'd survive the honeymoon so I know to take out more life insurance on you!" Iris exclaimed fervently and stopped him trying to kneel. Even in the tiki torches' firelight he could see her blush, finding it endeared her to him all the more.

"Iris, things will never be boring with you," he laughed heartily while he gathered her to him.

"You'll always have access granted," she murmured happily.

"I'll take that as a yes," his continued chortles rumbled in his chest against her cheek.

They continued to slow dance for several minutes before Jim led her out to the koi pond to sit in the yard swing as they had earlier. The fish were convinced the flames equated food and their snapping at the reflected firelight dancing on water's surface was causing a constant ripple effect. It made Brass chuckle at their efforts before a thought took hold.

"Hey, Iris," Jim said in a serious tone.

"Hey yourself," Iris said resting her head on his shoulder. She turned her face to his and he saw her quizzical eyes just like the little Scottish moor vixen.

"Seeing those ripples on the water makes me think about everything's that's happened since Warrick's death…Sara going away and then Gil…Catherine'll be great as supervisor and Nick as assistant…Greg'll get better and better as a CSI…Langston's new but he'll get there…Riley seems solid so far…and your coming from Dallas. How did it line up to happen the way it did? Coincidence? Gil always discounted that concept," Jim said and Iris could hear his sadness in how he recounted these events he'd weathered with the CSI team who would always be his family.

"I'm paraphrasing but for everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance. A time to embrace and a time to turn away. A time to search and a time to quit searching. A time to tear and a time to mend. A time to be quiet and a time to speak. A time to love…," Iris told him quietly.

"The Bible and the Byrds," Jim acknowledged.

"No matter what, like Alice Morse Earle said and I try to take it to heart: 'The clock is running. Make the most of today. Time waits for no man. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift. That's why it is called the present'," She followed it with a soft kiss on his cheek and his arms tightened about her. "Where you go I'll go and where you stay I'll stay."

"Forever, right?" Jim whispered against her hair.

"Yes because within you I lose myself and with you I find myself wanting to be lost again. I read that on a greeting card and it stuck with me," Iris replied and nestled against him as they slowly swung back and forth watching the fire lit ripples.

"Sheesh, you're full of quotes tonight," he commented wryly.

"You inspire me, love," she chuckled.

A little later Jim heard a faint snore and looked down to see Iris was dozing with her head pillowed on his shoulder. The slow rocking of the swing had done her in. Brass found his thoughts turned to his best friend. He'd gotten a text recently from Gil who was still in Costa Rica with Sara; the picture attachment showed him with Sara who was holding some bizarre insect that looked like a B movie horror monster. They appeared tan and relaxed with wide goofy grins and looked totally nuts about each other. Gil had moved on and on his own terms, and he had someone he'd share the rest of his life with. Jim had found hope again and it had been right in front of him with a love born out of friendship. Iris would be his daily gift to treasure and though tomorrow be a mystery he wouldn't face it alone.

Jim found himself recalling when he'd watched the Stephen King movie "The Shawshank Redemption" one of the nights when he was sick and a line that had struck him said by Andy Dufresne of "Get busy living, or get busy dying." He looked up at the starlit sky above with the glare of the Vegas Strip in the distance. Gil had his priorities in order and now so did he, cradling the sleeping Iris closer to him while he slowly kept the swing in motion. They'd both chosen to get busy living.

X X X X X

I hope you have enjoyed this tale and again apologize for the drought between the Jim and Iris stories. Fear not, another is in the works!

Be well,

LadyKestrel


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